Glitch in the System
by Mister Vault 101
Summary: In a coincidental event, four friends find themselves in their hometown during college. To catch up, the four play Call of Duty: World at War Zombies on Xbox LIVE, when they suddenly become trapped inside. Teaming up with the Original Zombie Slayers, the friends have to find out a way back. Will they survive this Glitch in the System?
1. The Beginning is the End

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End is the Beginning

April 29, 2018 7:46 P.M.

Uniontown, Pennsylvania, United States of America

I fastened my two Colt M1911 automatic pistols to my side holsters and walked over to the bed. There stood my backpack, which I had filled with M1911 magazines, each at the full capacity of seven .45 caliber rounds. I zipped up the backpack and slung it on my back. Looking at the bed, I grabbed the eight magazines I had separately laid out and clipped them to my belt.

The backpack wasn't small, nor did it contain little. In addition to the M1911 magazines were a good bit of different magazines, several boxes of contacts, a couple bottles of contact solution, contact cases, four toothpaste tubes and a toothbrush, my glasses in their case, and my iPod, two pairs of earphones, and its wall charger, among other things. Even a laptop and its charger were in the bag. I was going kind of survivalist with what was in the backpack.

I was wearing a set of reinforced military-grade combat armor, which I had managed to buy at a military surplus store, over a pair of camouflaged pants and a gray T-shirt. I was also wearing pair of combat boots, again acquired from the surplus store, as well as a bandolier and a combat knife strapped to my chest, the knife in a sheath.

Now for the big question: Why the _fuck _was I wearing all of this? Why did I have those guns?

To answer those questions, I was going to the range in an hour or two at the time. The only real reason I dressed up like that, looking ready to go on a killing spree, was largely because of the fact it was my 21st birthday and I was going to do what I wanted. I'm sort of a gun nut, hence the owning of two M1911 pistols (and more guns that I didn't have on me), as well as an abundance of ammunition. I'm also a huge gamer, literally playing since I was two years old, my first game being Grand Theft Auto 2, and I love Grand Theft Auto, Fallout, and Call of Duty. I just love games, and I was actually in college at the time for video game development. I'm also very intelligent and I have a degree of physical strength and some good endurance. I'm kind of tall, about six feet tall, I have teal eyes, and short dirty blond hair. I'm able to speak German, Russian, Spanish, and French pretty good in addition to English. I also have ADHD, which is oh-so-fun in math classes, which I hate. Also, the only reason I was even _in _Uniontown at the time was because I was visiting my mom and step-dad, whose house I was in. They wanted me to visit for my birthday, and I stayed in my old bedroom.

Anyway, after I had all of these clothes and weapons on my person, I sat down and turned on my old Xbox 360, which I had left there for when I visited. I looked around for some games and I grabbed Call of Duty: World at War. I signed in on my Xbox LIVE account, Kim Jong eeeels (it's an inside joke), and looked to see who was online, specifically those playing on 360. I saw that three of my best friends were on, all of whom I haven't seen for two years. They were all at the dashboard and I invited them to a party.

First to join my party was Luke, who, as soon as he joined the party, shouted, "JESSE!"

My reaction was, "Ow fucking shit goddamn it my fucking ear damn it!" very quickly. Luke had a habit of doing that, and it seemed like old habits indeed died hard.

After a brief second, the pain in my ear subsided, and I asked Luke, "Why the hell are you on 360 anyway?"

"I'm visiting my mom and step-dad," Luke replied. "What about you?"

"Same, but my parents wanted me to visit for my birthday." As I said this, I opened the disc tray. My Xbox 360, as well as Luke's, was a Slim, and made a _DING! _when you ejected the disc tray or turned the Xbox on or off.

"I heard that!" Luke exclaimed. He always did that, every damn time I opened the disc tray, he fucking heard it and said that he heard it. "Happy birthday, by the way." he added.

"Thanks," I said as another friend joined the Xbox LIVE party.

"Jon!" Luke damn-near yelled.

"Aw, fucking shit! Goddamn it Luke!" came Jon's reply, him being just as unprepared as I was.

"So Jon," I began. "Why're you on 360? You visiting your parents?"

"Yeah, actually," he replied. "What about you two?"

"Same," I answered for myself and Luke. At this point, I was putting the World at War disc into the disc tray and my last friend joined. As he did, I said, "Luke, don't even fucking yell. If you do, I'll smack you in the face."

"Colton!" Luke loudly proclaimed, despite my threat.

"I'm going to fucking rip off your balls, Luke!" I threatened. Both of my threats were empty threats, but Luke at least apologized.

"Hello, everyone," Colton said in greeting. "How come you're all on-"

"Visiting our parents," Jon said, cutting him off. "I'm guessing you're doing the same."

"Well, sort of," Colton confirmed. "I'm actually in Uniontown because my sister wanted me to come into her class to talk to the kids about engineering and such, because I am an engineering student," he said, the last part being a little braggart-like. "Oh, but I am staying with my parents."

"Well that's great Colton. Speaking of student-related shit," I said. "Luke, how's being an NHL player going?" I asked with a laugh that was shared with Jon and Colton.

"Actually, pretty good," he replied, completely ignoring the insult I threw at him. "I'm the captain of the college hockey team and some NHL scouts have been looking at me."

"Well, shit," I said." You threw my insult under a train." I still thought he was bullshitting, nonetheless.

"Yeah, yeah I did," he replied proudly. "How 'bout you, how's video game developing working out for you?"

"Good," I responded. "I actually had an internship at Rockstar North last summer. Scotland's a nice place, by the way."

"Rockstar sucks," Colton jabbed at me.

"Colton, I have two M1911s and an AUG, so shut up, dickface," I threatened emptily again.

"Whatever," Colton waved off the threat. "I'd just like to say I'm doing great, doing engineer stuff. By the way Jesse, happy birthday."

"Thanks, engie, build me a sentry already," I joked. I treated him like the Engineer from Team Fortress 2 sometimes. "Happy belated birthday to you Colton. Now Jon, how is it going on your side of the spectrum?"

"Wonderful," Jon answered. "I'm getting loads of poon each weekend, even though I dropped out of college. Oh, and happy birthday." I figured Colton would start bitching about Jon dropping out, so I started talking.

"Thanks, but you and poon," I started. "I really don't care about you and poon because I started talking to Katryna again last year."

"WHAT?" The other three all inquired, shocked.

"Why is she talking to you? She didn't tell you to leave her alone or anything?" Jon asked, quite interested.

"Nope, as a matter of fact, she goes to college with me," I replied. "We actually talk everyday and we hang out."

"Ooooh!" the other three dumbasses mocked, followed by various sex-related comments, though none were from Luke.

"Whatever, shitheads. You're just jelly. Now, for a real good question, since we're all here: wanna play some Der Reise on World at War?" I asked.

They all agreed in some form or the other, such as Jon saying he didn't have Map Pack 3 and me telling him he bought the bundle in our junior year in high school.

I hosted the game, so I was playing as Tank Dempsey, my favorite zombie killing badass, who was followed by Nikolai. Jon was playing as everyone's favorite vodka-drunk Russian. Luke was Takeo, much to his dismay, and Colton was Doctor Richtofen. On the screen, the traditional tune that played when you started a game sounded, as well as the big "Round 1" in the middle of the screen.

I was racking up the points, using my age-old strategy of shooting the zombies four to five times then stabbing them on round one, shooting them eight times then stabbing on round two, and so on. I only used this strategy during the early rounds, though if I could get the Bowie Knife before round ten and still had the wildly underpowered M1911, I'd keep going, especially with rape trains.

We spent the first three rounds just catching up on how we've been since high school graduation. Come the fourth-round, I asked a rather good observation: "I wonder why the servers are still up after ten years."

The other three agreed with me, but we assumed it was just because either a) Activision was going to shut them down until the Xbox LIVE service was shut down on Xbox 360 or b) private matches could still be played without a server, which was my guess.

Still in my armor with the guns and backpack on my person, I was comfortable. The air conditioning was on, so I wasn't hot. I got up at the end of the fifth round and looked outside. Not even twenty minutes earlier, it was sunny outside, the sky a shade of light orange. All of a sudden, it's overcast outside and looks like there's going to be a big and powerful storm moving through. I paid no mind to it and when I mentioned it to the other three, neither did they, so we kept slaying.

The sixth round marked the spawning of the hellhounds, which we just call "dogs." I had the Wunderwaffe DG-2, the Sturmgewehr-44 (the StG-44), and Monkey Bombs at that point, courtesy of the Mystery Box. Jon had the double-barrel shotgun and the Thompson, Luke had the MP40 and the BAR, and Colton had the Ray Gun and the Gewehr 43 as well as some Molotovs. We sort of made the box move as usual, so Colton was a little mad. The dogs were dispatched quickly and we proceeded to kick ass.

We got the Max Ammo power-up that was ritualistically dropped at the end of a hellhound round after we reloaded. What we actually did, was wait until the round started so I could toss some Monkey Bombs before we got the Max Ammo.

I still played lots of Xbox in college, as did Jon and Luke. We talked a lot, but like I said, we haven't seen each other for two years. Colton got on sometimes, but he took his work way too seriously. Again, haven't seen him for two years either. No matter what, I was still the best Zombies player out of us four. I had the most revives, points, and kills and no downs. There was always just one problem with me playing zombies: my Xbox would randomly disconnect from Xbox LIVE. Thankfully it didn't happen during that game, or else I would have never been Dempsey in World at War again with people. However, if it would have happened, I would have been grateful, and so would have my friends.

It was starting to rain outside, the rain being audible on the window of my room that faced Route 40. There was some thunder and lightning, but we kept on slaying. Since it was raining, I was going to take all of the armor off and store the guns and ammo after we all got downed, because I couldn't go to the range in that weather.

We kept killing and fucking shit up for another twenty to thirty minutes. By then, I had turned off the air conditioner due to the storm. Round fifteen started and I had a Wunderwaffe DG-3 JZ and a Spatz-447+. Jon had bought and Pack-a-Punched an M1897 Trench Gun (my second favorite shotgun), getting the Gut Shot, and also had a Gibs-o-Matic. The Thompson was always better in the World at War maps than the M1927 Thompson in Mob of the Dead. It sounded sexier, too. Luke had an Afterburner and a Widow Maker. Colton had Pack-a-Punched the Ray Gun, getting Porter's X2 Ray Gun, and he also had bough and Pack-a-Punched the Type 100, receiving the 1001 Samurais. We all had the four perks, and Jon and I had bought the Bowie Knife.

We were on round sixteen at the point, gearing up for another dog round, when shit went down. I mean it went _**down**_. Before I even explain what happened, I'll just say that I've read many fanfictions since I was fifteen, and what happened was _so_ cliché.

Outside, the storm went into full force. No longer was it just a little bit of rain and some thunder and lightning in the distance, it was raining hard and the thunder got much louder. Lightning struck near my parents' house.

We assumed we could just keep playing, although I was getting a bad feeling. We were doing pretty good for not playing World at War together for about five years, and the other three would not have it if the game suddenly ended. We pushed on through the storm. It was a grave mistake.

At the start of the seventeenth round, I heard a loud sound, an electrical one. I can't mimic the sound at all. I stood up and looked out of the window facing the road. Next to the road was a power line that branched off towards the house. The lightning struck that power line. _Well, shit,_ I thought. _The fucking game's gonna end._ All within a second, the lightning that struck the power line surged through my Xbox and I was engulfed in the blue mass and the power went out. After that, everything was black.


	2. Welcome to The Giant

Location: Near Breslau, Germany

Date: Sometime after September 1945

The sun had risen in the Giant. The Group 935 facility had been the forefront of technological advances for over six years, thanks in part to the funding Adolf Hitler had authorized for the project. Though the Second World War raged on, the facility in Germany had seen brilliant minds work there from nations that were allied with the Axis, others from nations unaligned with either faction and even some from nations that were Allies, fighting the Axis. The very same Axis whose most powerful member had funded the project. The same Axis who threatened their homelands.

That did not deter the scientists from working to reach their true goal of improving the world and advancing technology. Group 935 had many different facilities, not just Der Riese. The Giant was the scientific Group's main research facility. The research at the main facility covered many diverse fields, from weapon-enhancing machines and performance-augmenting colas to super-soldier experiments and teleportation devices.

Very little of this was actually known to Corporal Tank Dempsey of the United States Marine Corps. What Dempsey knew for sure was that the Nazi-funded Group 935 was responsible for the creation of the maggot-sacks he had been fighting for what seemed like forever. He also knew a man who was a German Group 935 scientist. The same man, however, had a hatred for Tank. A hatred that the Marine returned mutually.

Tank decided it was best to stop resenting the Nazi for now, as he had shit to do. The gutter-slugs only showed up at night in this hellhole, so barricading early and having the rest of the day to do whatever until the freak-sacks showed up was his best bet. Tank set out from the Z-C teleporter building with his M1911 by his side, a Trench Gun on his back, a box of nails in his left hand, and a hammer in the right.

He decided to start from the mainframe courtyard and work his way counter-clockwise, towards the incinerator. Dempsey walked past the Speed Cola machine and headed towards the mainframe. He rounded the corner, hopped off of the landing in front of the door with the Group 935 logo on it, and decided to go up to the Pack-a-Punch machine first. The maggot-whores never got stronger and they went down with a headshot, so the machine was somewhat pointless, but Tank knew that sometimes having an enhanced gun is worth the wait that the machine was infamous for.

As Tank walked up the stairs to the elevated mainframe, he looked at the mainframe, where he saw a sight that gave him a shock nearly as bad as a Waffle-blast.

Laying on the mainframe were four young men, all breathing slowly. One was dressed in some sort of armor and had a large backpack on, with two Colt M1911 handguns on his sides and a belt with several magazines strapped in. _What fucking war was this guy in? _the corporal couldn't help but think.

Another one was wearing a black T-shirt with the word "Malkin" above the number 71 on the back and blue jeans. A third was wearing some kind of shorts and a red T-shirt that seemed like a muscle shirt. The last one was a bit on the chubby side, wearing khaki shorts and a sweatshirt with a hood that read "Washington, D.C." on one sleeve. _At least I know he's from the States,_ Tank thought.

Tank wasn't one to panic, but this concerned him. Out of the four, only one seemed to be able to fight the shit-bags when they awoke and there was only one American out of the group to his knowledge. Tank started thinking about how they got there, specifically on the mainframe. _The mainframe is connected to the teleporters, _Tank thought._ But they weren't working yesterday, and after the maggot-sacks waned last night, the Kraut started to repa-_ Tank's thoughts trailed off. _The Kraut._

Tank left the hammer and nails away from the unfortunate and unconscious men and ran back to the Z-C teleporter.

* * *

I woke up because of that goddamn sun in my eyes. _Wait, the sun?_ I thought, slowly remembering the events of the previous night. _I was playing World at War Zombies on Der Riese,_ I remembered. _I was playing with Luke and Jon and Colton... Then there was that storm... Then the ball of lightning... Oh shit, the lightning!_ The memory startled me. I sat up and looked around, the first thing I saw being the Pack-a-Punch machine. _Wait, the Pack-a-Punch? What the fuck?_

"This can't be fucking right," I murmured. I looked down, seeing that I was literally sitting on the mainframe in Der Riese. _The fucking __mainframe?_ "What the hell is going on?" I said softly, still in disbelief. I looked around again, noticing I wasn't the only sorry sack of shit there, but still the only conscious one. I looked at the three men laying there, all about my age. The first feature I noticed on one of them was "Malkin" above the number 71 and the blond one's shirt.

"Oh shit," I said, notably louder than before. "Luke?" I looked at his face and my suspicions were confirmed. I tried to shake him awake.

He only stirred. I stood up and remembered everything I was wearing, and grabbed my two M1911s before I started doing anything else. I made sure they were loaded before I bent down next to the blue-clad man who was on the chubby side. As soon as I saw his face, I immediately felt another wave of disbelief surge through me. I didn't even check the last guy, I knew it was Jon. I looked around my surroundings again, and everything was the same as on the Der Riese map, but... real. It was all very real. I leaned on the wall of the Pack-a-Punch machine's enclosure and slowly slid down. I wasn't sad at first, just in complete disbelief.

Colton woke up a few moments later. That was when the sadness caught up to me. That was when I realized that if we were really trapped in the Call of Duty Zombies dimension, we were likely never going to see our dimension was the moment I realized that it just had to be real.

"What the..." I heard Colton trail off. "What's going on?" he added as he slowly got up.

"Well, Colton, long time no see," I tried to joke.

"Jesse? What... What the hell is going on? Where are we?" he asked, confused as to why I was there just as much as where we were.

"Well, if your brain wants to know as much..." I trailed off. "We're in Der-_fucking_-Riese. From World at War." He just stared at me. To his staring, I replied, "Fucking look behind me, tits. The goddamn Pack-a-Punch machine. Just look around, hell, look below you."

He did as I said, though in a fatigued way. He noticed he was sitting on the mainframe and he just stared at the Pack-a-Punch. Then he saw Luke and Jon. Before he could speak, I told him that those two were indeed Luke and Jon. He got up and walked into the Pack-a-Punch with me and sat.

"You think this is a dream?" he finally asked.

"No," I replied. "It's fucking real. As real as me and you. As real as Luke is a daywalker."

He chuckled at the last part, but still maintained a serious demeanor. He finally noticed my attire and asked why I was dressed like that. I told him exactly why. I told him about me going to go to the range after the fateful game of Nazi Zombies and how I just felt like wearing the clothing to the range.

Jon and Luke both awoke at the same time, during my explanation to Colton. They asked questions similar to Colton's, and they were in a similar state of disbelief as I was. I explained to them that we were in Der Riese. They took it with the same grain of salt as Colton. They too questioned my attire, though Jon admired my M1911s. I told them the same thing I told Colton, which Jon understood, but Luke was the idiot who wondered why I would go to the range. The same idiot who had the least experience with firearms out of all of us. I gave Colton a basic run-down of firearms safety and proper usage when we were seniors in high school, and Jon hunted, like I did, but Luke... If there were zombies, Luke was useless. The only thing he ever shot was a puck.

I had no idea when the zombies would show up, but when they did, I'd be the only one ready. At that moment, I made a vow to myself that I would keep my friends safe and find a way back to our dimension.

* * *

Tank walked into what was Doctor Ludwig Maxis' office, at least according to the door plaque, to find a middle-aged man sitting in a chair behind the desk of the destroyed office. Said man was hard at work on various mathematical and scientific equations and calibrations.

"Richtofen," Tank began calmly as he walked towards the Nazi with some anger in his step.

Richtofen sighed and said, "Vhat do you vant, Dempshey?"

"What the fuck did you do last night with the teleporters?" the American asked, getting angrier as the seconds ticked by.

Richtofen was surprised that the stupid American took an interest in the teleportation device's mechanics, at first. Then he remembered that Dempsey really didn't give a shit how it worked, so long as it worked. With another sigh, Richtofen replied, "I recalibrated the M.D.T. und then I did a test teleport vith an extra P38 pistol zhat vas laying around. Ze test vas successful. Vhy?"

"I'm sure you fucking know, Kraut," Tank said, resisting the urge to punch the German.

"Actually, nein. I do not know vhat you are talking about," Richtofen coolly replied. He wasn't lying, as he had no clue of any side effects of the teleportation test.

"My fucking ass! How the fuck did four other men get on the goddamn mainframe, then?" Dempsey shouted, starting to raise concerns from Nikolai Belinski, who merely drank it off with his beloved "wodka."

"Vhat?" Richtofen inquired, speaking more to himself than Tank. "Four men on ze mainframe? Vhat vent wrong vith ze calibrations? Nein nein NEIN! Fick mich!" The Doctor continued rambling in German to himself. German, a language that the proud American didn't know and wasn't going to learn soon. Dempsey, though patient, was very impatient with the German doctor, and he wanted answers.

"Richtofen!" Tank sternly said. The Doctor stopped mumbling and gave Dempsey a loathsome stare. "Did you fucking bring them here?"

Richtofen softened his stare. "Yes," he sighed, looking down. "I brought zhem here. On accident. Ze calibrations..." Richtofen trailed off.

"What about the damn calibrations?" The Marine inquired.

"Shtupid American!" Richtofen spat, his face twisting into a hateful expression. "All you ever do is ask questions! 'Vhy did zhis happen, Richtofen?' 'Vhat ze fuck did you do Richtofen?' 'Vhy am I such a fucking idiot, Richtofen?' Gott verdammt!"

"I want some motherfucking answers, Kraut! Or I fucking shove your fucked-up face up your seasoned asshole!" Tank threatened as he took another step towards the Doctor, who didn't even leave his chair. A few tense minutes passed before the insane man laughed.

"How can I give you answers I do not even have?" Richtofen countered, cracking a smile as he looked up.

"You don't know?" Tank questioned, to which Richtofen shook his head. "Then you might as well find the hell out, huh?" Tank called as he abruptly left the office.

* * *

Edward Richtofen was getting extremely irritated with the American. He was full of questions. He never just accepted something. He was an arrogant man. Brave and stupid, too. He never could win an argument by reason, only brawn and threats of violence. Edward may have been considered insane, but he was an intelligent man - tactical, cunning, quick-witted... He was also not as physically inept as he seemed. He was young, in his thirties. He had to endure Wehrmacht Officer training after graduating with his doctorate, eventually earning the rank of Brigadefuhrer, equivalent to the American Major General.

Edward was a scientist, a man of discovery. Then that damned M.P.D. on the moon... The voices in his head urged him relentlessly to take power over the M.P.D. from that little brat. Edward tried his best to ignore the voices, but to little avail. They were a nuisance. _Kill the American, take control of the M.P.D., you're pathetic Edward,_ and so on and so forth. Every now and then, his memory would go blank, as though the voices took control of his body. They even forced words out of his mouth when the untoten would die again at the doctor's hands. Things implying he had an obsession with blood, necrophilia, spleens, and death in general. He was obsessed with no such things, though he did notice a change in his personality after coming into contact with that cursed device. Samantha started to hate "Uncle Eddy" and he was even angrier that the DG-2 wasn't being mass-produced. Then his attempted murder of Maxis and his daughter...

Richtofen shook his head. No time to reminisce now, he had a calculation to fix. Given Dempsey's news of the four men on the mainframe, there was also a mystery to solve: how they got there and where they were from. The men had to be sent back to wherever they came from, or else they would just get in the way and deep down, Edward didn't want innocent lives to be at stake. _Kill them, torture them, take their spleens!_ the damned voices urged. As if making him extremely irritable and seemingly sadistic wasn't enough...

* * *

I stood up and walked to the mainframe's stairs. The other three stayed in the Pack-a-Punch enclosure. We decided that, seeing as I was armed, I would scout out the area for anyone. Checking the M1911 to see if it was loaded, I unholstered the M1911 on my left thigh and checked it. I walked to the side with Speed Cola and decided to head straight to the Z-C teleporter.

I came to the hole that was at a small ninety-degree turn to the left of the "H" in the word "HELP," which was on the wall opposite the electric shock trap. I pressed up to the wall and peeked around the corner. Nothing. I rounded the corner, walking just behind the electric trap's switch, before I heard what sounded like an argument.

"How can I give you answers I do not even have?" a German-accented male's voice said.

"You don't know?" another male voice, this one deep with an American accent, questioned the other. "Then you might as well find the hell out, huh?"

I dove next to where the Box spawned initially in-game. Okay, I didn't dive, I hastily ran there and crouched. I heard footsteps from my location, footsteps that were quick and loud. I sat there, waiting. The footsteps grew louder and the second voice came into earshot.

"Fucking Nazi and his fucking bullshit," the man grumbled. "I'll kick his fucking ass, that's what I'll..." his words stopped.

_Oh fuck me, _I thought.

The fenced-in generator I hid next to was actually a very poor spot. I failed to realize that I could be seen through the fence. The man seemed to not notice me, as he kept walking. Then, from my crouched position, his legs appeared opposite me, unobstructed by the fence. He wasn't facing me, though. _Just keep walking and I'll be fine, _I thought. _Keep going an-_

"What the fuck are you doing?"


	3. Introductions

"Ah shit," I sighed.

The man who had been walking discovered my (not exactly) Solid Snake-tier hiding spot. The man was about my height, had military-cut blond hair, blue eyes, and olive drab fatigues with a bandolier strapped around his torso. To me, the man was unmistakable: Tank Dempsey. The United States Marine who I just-so-happened to be playing as before being sucked into the Zombies universe.

"What the hell're you doing?" he repeated.

"Uh... Sitting here?"

"No-fucking-shit," he quickly said. "At least you speak English. When did you get up?"

"I don't know, maybe fifteen minutes ago?"

"Shit," Dempsey said under his breath. "You must've got up after I left."

"Wait, you knew we were here?"

"Yeah, but hold up, kid. I'm asking the questions. How'd you get here?"

"You think I fucking know?" I snapped unintentionally. "I want to know as much as you."

"Calm your ass, maggot," he sternly replied. "Now, where're you from?"

"Pennsylvania. Why?"

"Good, another American," I heard him murmur happily. "The other men, do you know them?"

"Yeah, they're all my friends. Why?"

"In case you haven't noticed, _I_ am the questioner here, not you," he replied with a fierce look. _Okay, Jesse. Back off._ "Don't interrupt me again. Now, what is your name?"

"Jesse."

"Alright, Jesse, I am-"

"Corporal Tank Dempsey of the United States Marine Corps, I know," I finished, irritated. I wanted to know why he kept asking damn questions, which was quite obvious.

"How do you know who I am?" _You fucking outdid yourself this time, dumbass,_ I thought. _Can't explain you were playing a damn video game, and, you also interrupted him. Again._

"I'll explain later. Seeing as you're here, I assume my friends and I are also in the presence of the honorable samurai Takeo, the lovable drunk Nikolai, and the Doctor, correct?"

Tank just gave me this stare as if to say, "How the fuck...?" He didn't say anything, though. A few seconds later, he motioned for me to follow him, turning around.

"Ahhhh, no," I responded. "I need to get my unarmed friends, because there are zombies, right?"

The marine turned and sighed. "Yes, there are fucking freak-sacks, but only at night. As for their unarmed asses, we have weapons." "Fuck," Tank sighed. "Fine. Let's get your friends, even though we have quite a fucking bit of time."

We headed back to the mainframe. I holstered my M1911s, turning on both safeties. As we walked, I turned to Tank. "Do you remember what happened before the swamp?" _Damnit! Again, shithead, you know everything about Verr__ückt and what Richtofen did._ At this moment, we were in front of the chain-link fences near Speed Cola, and the others saw me and Tank walking.

"How do you...?" he quietly said as he turned towards me. "No, no I don't."

"Oh," I quickly said. I expected such a response.

We reached the door to the courtyard when he looked at my holsters. "Colt M1911s, eh?"

I nodded in reply, to which he said, "Fine guns if you ask me. If there was any sidearm I would ever want that _wasn't_ the Ray Gun, it'd be a 1911." To this, he unholstered his M1911.

I looked to the marine and said, "Me, too. It's actually my favorite and preferred gun." I noticed he had a Trench Gun on his back. "The M1897, huh? Fine instrument of close-range destruction." He nodded with a smirk, holstering his M1911.

We rounded the steps to the mainframe. The other three saw me and the badass Marine walking, and they became more shocked. I heard Colton murmur something about actually being in the Zombies dimension and his concerns with Richtofen, Luke mumbled something inaudible, but Jon said, "OORAH DEMPSEY!"

Tank was taken back by this, but regained his composure and had a chuckle. "So, what are your names?" the marine inquired.

They all told him their names. "Jon, Luke, Colton, and Jesse," Dempsey repeated. "How old are all of you?"

"Me and Colton are twenty-one, Jon and Luke are twenty," I answered.

"Well, at least you seem like able-bodied men, 'cept the pale one," he pointed towards Luke. "Well, I am sorry to inform you that there is an apocalypse of the maggot-whore kind that seems to follow us, so you three," he pointed at Jon, Luke, and Colton, "need to get some more fitting clothes, the freak-sacks' scratches aren't pleasant, and some weaponry. Who here, besides him," he pointed at me, "has experience with firearms?" Jon and Colton raised their hands.

"Colton has some experience, I gave him some lessons on proper firearm usage. Jon's a hunter, so he's good," I said to Tank. "Luke, however..."

"Okay... Follow me." He told our group, cutting me off.

Tank took us back to the Z-C teleporter, where a certain drunken man was "standing" guard. He saw Tank leading our group and said, "Hey, hey! Is it me, or do I see five Dempseys? Bah! I'm just drunk."

"_Au contraire_, my Russian friend. Four new bloods," Dempsey informed Nikolai.

"Oh really? Well, Nikolai must not be drunk enough!" Nikolai paused after taking a gulp of vodka. "Where did you find them?"

"They were on the mainframe. Just... laying there, unconscious," the reply came, disbelief still soaking Dempsey's words.

"Looks like you need more vodka!" the care-free drunk exclaimed. "But not mine. It's okay vodka, no one will ever touch you exept me," he whispered to the now-caressed vodka bottle.

Luke and Jon started laughing, I smirked, and Colton was emotionless, but I thought I heard a chuckle escape his fallible "stoic" posture. Nikolai gave Luke a glare, possibly because Luke laughed harder than the rest of us, then Tank motioned to continue following him.

We went into the building containing the Z-C teleporter, and to my left I saw a man in an Imperial Japanese officer's uniform. Takeo Masaki was sitting on the stairs to the catwalk, his eyes closed. I knew how perceptive the samurai was, so I expected him to notice the four extra pairs of feet without opening his eyes. Sure enough, he did.

"How did these four get here, Dempsey?" Takeo asked the marine, staying still.

"I dunno, Tak," Tank replied. "Found 'em on the mainframe, knocked out cold. Probably one of the Doc's fucked up experiments."

Takeo merely nodded his head in either agreeance or acknowledgement, I couldn't tell which, though likely the former. Tank then asked the honorable bushido to take my friends to get weapons and more appropriate clothing. I mentioned that Luke, who I referred to as "the blonde one," would need to learn how to use a gun, to which Takeo acknowledged before he stood, opening his eyes at last. He led my four friends up to the catwalk to get guns and appropriate clothing.

I was already armed, however, so Tank decided to take me elsewhere in the Z-C teleporter area. Actually, he took me not to some_where_, but to some_one_.

Tank took me to an office, one that once belonged to Ludwig Maxis, as stated by a plaque above the door. This was where Quick Revive usually was, but... there were walls. Tank ushered me in to the office, so I opened the door and walked into the office. Tank, too, came in the office, closing the door behind him. A few feet in front of me in the disarrayed office was a desk, its chair facing away from us. Behind that was a blue soda machine. The chair was occupied, as when Tank closed the door, an all-too familiar voice rang out.

"Vhat is it now, Dempshey?"

Just when the doctor was about to start reviewing his calculations and calibrations for any possible errors, the damned marine walked in. Clearly, the marine showed yet again that he has no manners.

"Vhat is it now, Dempshey?" the doctor asked with clenched teeth, annoyance seething through them. The back of the chair was facing the American, but Edward was just as irritated as if _he_ was facing the marine.

"Brought you a visitor," Dempsey replied.

"Who, Nikolai? I already told him vhere ze vodka is."

"Just fucking turn around, Kraut," the American snapped with some impatience.

Edward hated that derogatory word. Kraut. He wasn't some kind of condiment! Out of sheer annoyance, the doctor spun his chair around rather sharply to see the boisterous marine standing next to another, armor-clad man. At least it seemed like armor.

"Und who ist zhis?" Richtofen asked.

"One of those men," Dempsey replied, the stupid grin on his face never faltering.

"Shtupid American," Richtofen grumbled. He turned towards the newcomer. "Tell me. Who are you?"

The other man opened his mouth to reply, but Dempsey promptly interrupted.

"Jesse, meet Doctor Edward fucking Richtofen, the dickbag that brought you and your friends here!" the marine shouted, ridiculously. "Dicktofen, meet Jesse, one of the four Americans you brought into this hellhole!"

The American was seething inside, the doctor concluded, based on his analysis of the marine's actions. His perceived humor was only present because he knew he as infuriating Edward. Patience is a virtue. One that Dempsey raped like the brute he was.

"Get ze fuck out, Dempshey. I vill tell you once, und _only_ once: it vas not my fault," the doctor said, anger seething off of him. Keeping his composure was something he was good at. "Go, before I cut off your balls und feed zhem to ze minions!" The voices were only good in getting his point across, as they were talking then. He hated them any other time.

"Jesse, was it? You stay, I vish to talk to you. Dempshey, fick dich und aussteigen."

Dempsey eventually got the message and left, leaving the doctor to his devices of questioning. He looked at the young American and gestured to a knocked over chair.

"Sitzen," he commanded. Once the American called Jesse stood the chair upright and sat, Edward started.

"So... Tell me, how do you get here?"


	4. Floodgate

Chapter Four: Floodgate

How did I get here? A question I had no answer for.

"I'm not sure," I answered the doctor.

"Vell... Zhat's nicht gut," the doctor replied, furrowing his brow. His brow raised back up not even a second later, as if he had an idea. "Before you came here... vere you engulfed in electricity?"

Well, the doc's a smart motherfucker. "Yeah. I was, I don't know about my friends though."

Richtofen merely nodded, as if to say "Well, we'll find out later." He was quiet for a moment, then he had another question for his interrogation.

"Vhat vere you und your friends doing before ze teleportation occurred?" _Oh, now it's fucking teleportation,_ I thought. I was thinking of how to explain what happened, but I didn't know how. So? I did the next best thing. I shrugged.

This caught Richtofen off-guard, as his eyes narrowed in slight annoyance. Tank had to start shit with the doctor, making his fuse short.

"Vhat do you mean?" the Nazi inquired. "You remember being engulfed by electricity, but you don't remember vhat you und your friends vere doing?" His voice was getting pretty loud.

"Well, even if I did tell you, it'd all be a confusing clusterfuck, so I won't tell you," I quickly replied. It seemed as though both of us were getting annoyed easily.

"How is it confusing? Please. I'm all ears. I von't get confused." Richtofen really wanted to know.

Just as I was about to explain, there were several knocks on the door, followed by a burp. "Eh, Richtofen! Why won't Pack-a-Punch machine take my vodka?"

Richtofen groaned in frustration, then looked at me. "Ve vill discuss zhis later." He got up calmly, something that I didn't expect. He walked to the door and opened it, explaining to Nikolai why the Pack-a-Punch machine does not accept vodka. He must've explained it several times before, given his bored tone of voice.

I left the room and went back to the catwalk, to see how the others were faring. Walking up the stairs, I noticed Tank boarding up entry points near the power switch.

"No, no," I heard Takeo say. "That is incorrect. You want to do this."

At the top of the stairs, I saw Takeo still trying too show Luke how to aim a pistol, the pistol in question being a Walther P38. Takeo handed Luke the handgun and Luke improperly aimed it again. Jon and Colton were sitting down and watching, taking amusement in Luke's incompetence.

Jon outfitted himself with a Thompson and Trench Gun, an M1911 at his side. Colton had an MP40 and an M1A1 Carbine, a Tokarev TT-33 at his side. Luke, however, was likely stuck with the Walther P38.

After a few more tries, the slightly frustrated Takeo finally got through to Luke. Luke managed to properly aim the gun, his aim swaying only a little bit. Takeo's next goal was to teach Luke how to reload a gun. Instead of demonstrating, Takeo handed Luke a P38 magazine.

Luke can be dumb, but what he asked was just **fucking stupid.** "Where does this go?"

Seriously? You play Call of Duty for years and you never pay attention to the reloads? I facepalmed, but Jon chuckled. Even Takeo seemed to question Luke's intelligence.

"Give me the gun," the Japanese captain commanded. Luke handed it over, along with the magazine. Takeo took the P38, turned it sideways to show Luke where he should insert the magazine, and slid the magazine in, all in a rather comical array of exaggerated motions. Takeo hit the mag release and handed the gun and magazine back to Luke.

"You do it," was all Takeo said.

Luke literally turned the P38 sideways and slid the magazine in slowly, as if calculating his movements. Takeo was unimpressed by Luke's lethargy, but instructed him to pull the slide back. Luke did so, surprisingly having no difficulty in doing so.

Luke was then taken outside, into the Z-C courtyard. Takeo instructed Luke to shoot the boards on the boarded up door after Takeo made some bulls-eyes with his knife. Surprisingly, again, Luke wasn't a shit shot, though the recoil startled him. After the magazine was empty, Takeo instructed Luke to eject the magazine, showing him where the mag release was. Luke did so and Takeo grabbed a Gewehr 43. Making sure that no rounds were loaded, Takeo ejected the magazine. He then made sure Luke was paying attention and showed him how to properly hold a rifle.

After completely instructing the simpleton that is Luke how to properly operate a rifle, he moved on to shotguns. The recoil from firing the rifle startled Luke more than the pistol, but the shotgun's made him nearly piss his pants. Watching from the catwalk, Colton, Jon, and I laugh extremely hard, Jon nearly falling off. Takeo seemed to want to laugh, but he could be pretty stoic and serious. Which he was.

Luke seemed embarrassed, and by the time Takeo introduced him to the MGs, he was beet red (even though beets are purple-ish). At the end of his rudimentary training, Luke was an expert. In firearms failure. He wouldn't be a midnight snack when the zombies came, though.

I turned away from the others and started to rummage through the crates of weapons on the catwalk. I searched and searched and searched... then I found it. A Sturmgewehr 44. I snatched it up and started to search for ammunition. By then, Richtofen had reentered the office and Nikolai was sitting down next to the door of the office.

"Hey Nikolai," I said as I jogged towards him.

"What?" he grunted. This would be interesting.

"Where's the ammo at?"

He looked at me, his drunken gaze turning into one of complete seriousness. He shot up and ran into the teleporter room. This wasn't what I expected, so I was left in awe for a second before I followed. It seemed as if he was going to run into the teleporter, but abruptly made a right turn. Clearly, Nikolai could never be the best NASCAR driver ever.

He sprinted into the small tunnel underneath what was Maxis' office, where stacks of ammunition boxes stood at the end of the wall. Out of place, though, were several large crates, one of which Nikolai dove at and threw open mid-dive. The crates were filled with vodka.

He grabbed a bottle and opened it, taking two large gulps before remembering I was there.

"Oh," he sighed. "What did you want again?"

"Uhhh... the ammo?"

"Is right here!" Nikolai happily exclaimed, a silly grin on his face. But then his expression turned grim. "But don't touch my vodka."

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, searching through the ammo boxes for StG44 magazines. I found a stack of ammo boxes marked for use with StG44s.

After strapping some magazines onto my bandolier, I shoved some more into my pockets, before remembering I had the backpack on and realizing how cumbersome it would be. I needed someplace safe to put it.

I walked back up the stairs, leaving Nikolai to his vodka. I walked back into the courtyard and reentered Richtofen's office. The door closed with a loud _BANG!_ which was unintentional.

"Vhat now?" the German said from the once-more turned around chair.

"Where can I put this and it be safe?" I asked, holding out my backpack.

"Oh, ze new American," the doctor said, spinning his chair around.

"Is zhat vhat you vant to keep safe?" he asked, pointing to my backpack. I nodded. "Vhy?"

I thought of how to explain it. "There are certain... fragile things in here that I'd rather not have broken," I said. In fact, the backpack itself was shock-absorbent and my electronics all had protective cases. I just didn't want to be encumbered once the hoard came.

Richtofen stared at me. After a few moments, he blinked and pointed to his right. "Zhere is a vall safe zhat seems large enough for your backpack. I have no use for it, so, by all means. Use it."

His generosity would be appreciated much more if he didn't say it so... creepily. I thanked him and put the backpack in the safe. Surprisingly, there was still room to spare. I didn't even think there was a wall safe in Der Riese, especially in the Quick Revive room.

As I was walking out, Richtofen spoke again. "Die Untoten approach. It is only a matter of time before zhey attempt to siege Der Riese. I hope you und your friends are ready." I turned around to reply.

"I think we'll be okay," I assured. _Luke notwithstanding,_ I thought.

"You should hope so," the Nazi scientist said. "Und if you survive, I expect you to tell me how you got here." _Oh great, stipulations,_ I thought ruefully. He wanted to know really bad.

"Uh, sure," I replied. I glanced at my watch. **5:17 P.M.,** it read. Time went by far too fast. Then again, I did watch Luke learn how to use a gun for quite some time. "What time do the zombies usually show up?" I asked.

Richtofen had to think for a moment, turning his head away from mine. "Around five... I don't know, forty-five? Maybe six." He checked the time as well. "Oh goody, look at ze time! Ze minions are on zheir vay!"

I cocked an eyebrow at the doctor. He went from being serious, and quite normal, to the "normal" Doctor Richtofen that was in the game. Not good.

Richtofen turned to me, his eyes full of excitement. "You should go make your final preparations. It vould be no fun if ze minions did not receive a proper velcome, now vould it?" he chuckled. I started to feel fear creep up my spine, so getting the fuck out of there was my best bet.

"Yeah, uh... I'll go do that," I said, locking the wall safe and quickly backing out of the room.

* * *

The doctor regained consciousness after the door shut. _Verdammt diese Stimmen,_ Edward angrily thought. The schizophrenia must have taken control of his mind again. Just when he was talking to the man who seemed like the de facto leader of the new group, the voices have to fuck everything up.

Edward pounded his fist on the desk. Why couldn't the voices just go away? All he wanted to do was stop any plans Samantha had. The M.P.D. was a dangerous device, one that needed destroyed, but the voices kept on insisting that _he_ take control of the M.P.D. Not the brat, but him.

Edward Richtofen was many things. The first man on the moon, a scientist, a doctor... but he was no dictator. Nor was he a murderer, but he only gained that reputation thanks to the ever-loving schizophrenia. The voices would have to kiss his proud German ass. He worked with Group 935 to help humanity, and come hell or high water, he wasn't going to destroy it. He would make sure of it.

The doctor reaffirmed himself before standing. He checked his magazine pouches. Full. He made sure his Walther P38 was strapped in its holster and slung his MP40 over his shoulder. The undead drew near. It was time for slaughter.

* * *

I walked back up on top of the catwalk. Jon and Colton were still there, Luke having since joined them. They were all bullshitting. Jon was the first to spot me.

"Hey," he said. "Where'd you go?"

"To get ammo for this," I said, showing him my StG44. "I also had to put my backpack somewhere."

"Oh," Jon said. "What _is_ in your backpack, anyway?" Colton and Luke repeated Jon's question.

"Well, it has all the answers to your fucking problems, for damn sure," I snapped.

"Jesus, what died in your vagina?" Colton asked.

I sighed. "Nothing, I was just joking." I then went on to tell them what was in the backpack.

"Why the _fuck_ would you ever have that much shit in one backpack?" Jon asked after I listed the contents of the backpack.

That was a good question. Even for me. "I don't know. I felt like it, okay?" I replied.

"Sounds like you were preparing for the nuclear apocalypse," Jon remarked.

"Well, Jon. If that were the case, you'd be there with me." No homo.

Jon seemed to like that thought, given the fact that if the nuclear apocalypse happened, we'd be bros in the nuclear fire.

"Seriously, though, guys," I said. "The zombies should be arriving any minute now, at least according to Richtofen."

"But," Colton interjected. "He's insane! Are you sure he's not just duping us?"

"Colton, I don't think that he's entirely insane."

"What could you possibly mean?" Luke blurted out, finally making his voice heard.

I sighed. "He just doesn't seem like he is." I couldn't think of any way to explain. "The important thing is, we have a fight coming, and it's soon."

While I was trying to be serious, the others thought of it as another game of Zombies. This was going to be a hell of a fight.

Twenty minutes later, Tank ran back and informed us that the 'maggot-whores' were on their way. Richtofen had us split into two groups. Group one consisted of Tank, Nikolai, Jon, and me. Group two was Takeo, Richtofen, Luke, and Colton.

Group one would hold down the animal labs, where one would normally be able to purchase the Trench Gun, and its respective side. The second group was to hold down the other half, including the garage. Our retreat point would be the Z-C teleporter.

Tank took point. We headed into the animal labs from the entryway near the Pack-a-Punch. When we got there, zombies were already trying to bust through Tank's barricades.

Jon and I covered the Z-A teleporter room, while Tank and Nikolai covered the actual lab. Tank and Nikolai weren't seeing too many zombies, and neither were we. In fact, Jon and I hadn't seen any zombies.

We let our guard down. All of a sudden, I felt all the air pushed out of my lungs, weight on my back. One gunshot later, I was covered in blood and brains. A zombie tackled me and I never saw it coming.

Jon helped me up to my feet. I thanked him and he said it wasn't a problem. In the time it took one shambler to knock me down, at least twenty more had arrived at the barricades. Jon and I split the room's "windows," taking out the zombies.

At my window, there were about twelve zombies, all having an orgy trying to get in. I raised one M1911 and pulled the trigger eight times. One in the chamber, seven in the magazine. My aim was precise, eight zombies falling. It also seemed that there was logic in this universe: the .45 ACP rounds that took down the zombies left holes in the other four. Pleased with the outcome, I raised my other M1911 and squeezed off four shots. Four down. Granted, I was at close range, but I was still proud of myself. At least until I started to feel sick from the brains on my face.

Jon was doing the same, using his lone M1911. However, he didn't get spattered with gore. Lucky asshole. I looked back to my window to see the barricades completely gone, zombies crawling out.

"Shit!" I swore, aiming for their undead heads. That was going well, for the first four trigger pulls. I forgot to reload. I slid one M1911 into its holster, starting to reload the other one. I pulled the slide back and put a bullet in the nearest zombie's head. I couldn't keep such a routine up. The zombies were starting to pour in, and Jon already switched to his Thompson.

Reluctantly, I shouldered the Sturmgewehr, holstering the other M1911. A zombie took a swipe at me and I fired a burst into its torso. Another lunged at me and I smacked it in the face with the StG44's butt, knocking the zombie on its ass. I snuffed the freak of nature out with my foot.

Jon was starting to get pushed back by the zombies. One glance at his window revealed that he was standing off with about forty zombies, compared to my ten. He fired blindly into the crowd, barely hitting anything.

After finishing off the zombies hindering me, I sprinted towards Jon's window, firing madly as well. I actually hit several zombies, a couple getting killed in the process. Jon thanked me and reloaded his Thompson.

Another group of zombies broke through. While Jon got backed into a corner, I got tackled again. Shoving the meat-fucker off, I drew my knife and shoved it into the zombie's trachea. Jon fell on his ass, now firing his M1897. I stood up, taking my knife back.

I brought up my StG and unleashed a flurry of lead into the undead whores. Our combined effort left a pile of corpses and a gore-covered Jon. I walked to him and helped him to his feet.

"Thanks," he said.

"Don't worry about it. You did the same for me."

We silently reloaded all of our weapons and waited for the next group.

This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Colton looked on as Richtofen reloaded his MP40 with precision. He spun the SMG, inserting the magazine as he did so. Colton had his M1A1 Carbine shouldered, ready for a wave at any point in time. The zombies slowed down for them, but he wondered if they did the same for Jesse and Jon.

The second group had not split up, instead setting up in the garage. Zombies could enter from four different areas, so one person covered each entryway. The most recent wave backed Luke into a corner, but the other three managed to kill the zombies assaulting him.

"I vonder vhere zhey vent," Colton overheard the German say.

This didn't phase Colton negatively. Instead he sat on the ground next to Luke. Though he wasn't particularly fond of the pale blond, he tried to shoot the shit with him.

"So, how many did you kill?" Colton asked.

Luke, however, seemed mortified. He was also covered in blood and other gore. Colton hadn't noticed this before. He nudged Luke. "Luke, are you okay?"

Luke's eyes just widened in fear before breaking down. "This can't be happening! This isn't real!"

Takeo and Richtofen gave the two newcomers odd looks, causing Colton to try and shush Luke.

"What the hell do you mean?" Colton hissed.

Luke's eyes couldn't have possibly got any wider. "This is supposed to be a video game, Colton!" Luke quietly said. It took all he could muster to do so.

Colton looked Luke over. Mentally the weakest, it wasn't hard to see why he already cracked. He was covered in blood and gore, and he was close to being a midnight snack. The trauma from being pulled into a video game must have also had a slight effect on the pale man.

Colton ushered Luke to his feet, another wave of zombies imminent. Richtofen was slaughtering the undead, laughing manically. Luke was still in shock, it seemed, but he got up. Luke shouldered his M1 Garand, zombies in the sights, and pulled the trigger. It seemed like he finally was getting used to the recoil.

Colton turned his head, focusing on the zombies he was to kill. Slinging his M1A1 Carbine and drawing his empty MP40 , Colton slapped in a fresh magazine, cocking the SMG. The undead came and Colton unleashed hell from the German machine. Many zombies later, the push slowed at his window, so he turned to Luke, seeing if any help was required.

As his head turned, Colton saw Luke getting overwhelmed by the fleshbags. Time slowed as he raised his MP40 and squeezed the trigger, killing a majority of the undead. An unharmed zombie dragged Luke to the ground. Colton squeezed the trigger one more time, but the zombie already sunk its teeth into the Pale One.

Time seemed to speed up as the last of the MP40's magazine was emptied into the zombie that bit Luke. Colton dropped the SMG and slid to his unconscious friend, calling Richtofen over. The zombies stopped flowing in.

"Vhat happened?" the doctor asked, before he saw the bite marks on Luke's forearm. Blood was drawn, and he also was ripped open from several scratches, a hole in his shirt.

"Takeo, come here," Richtofen ordered. Takeo did as instructed. "Grab his legs. I vill grab his arms." They did so, picking Luke up and carrying him to a secluded corner, one that the zombies couldn't access. Richtofen then rudimentarily bandaged Luke.

"Ve vill have to leave him zhere for now," the German explained. "Once ze untoten are definitely dealt with for ze night, I vill make sure he recieves ze proper medical treatment. For now, ve need to deal vith ze minions."

Colton merely nodded. He had merely though of the whole situation as being like the game. Never had he considered the reality of the situation. Though he soldiered on, Colton couldn't help but feel horrible about what happened to Luke. He had seen what happened and paid no heed to it.

The reality of the situation hit pretty hard. His anger was taken out on the undead masses, mutilating them beyond recognition. However, he still felt fear and sympathy. Why did he feel bad about someone who he seemingly despised? Maybe it was because they were quite literally all they had in this fucked up universe.

And getting out was going to take quite some time.


	5. Revive

Chapter Five: Revive

Jon and I made our way through the zombies, coordinating our attacks. Tank and Nikolai were surprised that we were able to handle ourselves. I sort of was, too. Nearing four in the morning, Jon and I took a break. The horde had stopped flowing through for a while, so we sat down on the ground.

"How do you think the others are doing?" he asked.

"I couldn't guess even if I wanted to," I said. "I just hope Luke's holding out."

Jon just nodded in agreement, not even cracking a joke about Luke. The situation's reality presented itself to him when he got swarmed in the corner, blindly shooting (and pumping) his M1897. I was glad I was there to help, but I knew that none of us could rely on someone else always being there. We were worried about Luke because chances were, he couldn't handle himself.

The rest of our reprieve passed in silence, barring the laughter Tank and Nikolai let out every so often. My shoulder and arms ached from the Sturmgewehr's recoil and my feet were killing me from running around. The armor I stupidly wore prior to being transported to this dimension was getting cumbersome, too. At first it seemed beneficial and it may have helped when the zombies swiped at me, but it was bulky and actually restricted my movement. I was going to take it off whenever it was daytime. _Maybe it'll fit in that wall safe,_ I thought.

"Fuck," I heard Tank grumble. He walked over to the Z-A teleporter room. "Freakbags are here."

While Tank and Nikolai took their stations, Jon and I took ours. Our windows weren't populated with the undead, but we were still ready. I heard gunshots from the labs, indicating that, yes, the zombies had arrived.

At my window, zombies slowly trickled in, so I slung the StG. Instead of drawing an M1911, I grabbed my knife and slashed at the nearest corpse's throat. It didn't die, probably because its lungs no longer functioned. The zombie in question crawled through the window, so I kicked it down and forcefully stabbed its head, penetrating the skull. That was a sickening feeling.

Once that zombie died, I decided to keep up the routine until I had to start shooting, simply to save ammo. The break we had before the most recent one, we went and got more ammo, but I didn't want to run out so quickly. Especially when a zombie wanted to 1v1 me.

While I engaged the zombies, I looked at Jon. He was holding up fairly well, opting to bash lone zombies' skulls in with the butt of his gun. That had to be more sickening than stabbing one's brain.

Not long after, we had to start opening fire. Zombies started to arrive in mobs, so I shouldered the German assault rifle, aiming for collateral damage. I lined up shots that would penetrate multiple skulls, sometimes double-tapping for added carnage.

Jon, however, had one hell of a mob at his window. He brought his Trench Gun up and fired twelve gauge buckshot into the mass of corpses. He pumped and repeated. He cleared out all of the zombies from his window with a few shotgun shells.

On my end, the mob was thinning. The mob ate two magazines from the Sturmgewehr, but it couldn't eat anymore. There were only about ten zombies left by then, so I finished them off with my M1911s. Jon and I relaxed when no more arrived. I checked the time and saw that it was nearing six in the morning.

"Let's go down with the other two," I told Jon. He nodded. We walked into the labs, Tank finishing off one last zombie.

"Hey!" Nikolai said when he saw us. "You survived!"

"You doubted us?" Jon asked.

"Maybe a little, but that is because you are new to this," Nikolai said. That struck me as odd. I didn't think Nikolai would have noticed that it was our first night rekilling the undead.

Tank shook his head at Nikolai and looked at us. "So, how ya holdin' up?"

"Shoulder and arms are killing me," I said. "So are my feet."

Jon nodded. "Same here."

Tank just chuckled a little. "Don't worry, you get used to it. Right Nikolai?"

Nikolai, who was taking a swig of vodka, struggled to respond. "Mmmff," he gulped. "Ah... Yes! You get used to it! Now," he whispered to his vodka. "Where was I?"

"So," I turned to Tank. "When do the zombies stop coming?"

He thought for a moment. "We'll have to see. If they don't show up after fifteen minutes, this was the last wave of the night. They usually stop around now." Jon and I sighed in relief. "So, Jesse, tell me. Why in the fuck are you wearing that?" He gestured to the armor

I sighed. It was a ridiculous and stupid reason. "It was my birthday and I was going to go the firing range in this."

Tank and Nikolai chuckled. "Why?" Tank asked.

"Because I just didn't give a fuck," I responded. "Same reason I had the backpack." We dropped that topic.

Sitting there, I had a bright idea. "Hey Tank." He looked at me. "What if we barricaded these windows with the dead zombies?"

At first, he raised an eyebrow. Then, he considered the idea. "I don't see why not," he shrugged. "Let's see what happens before we start, though."

We waited a few minutes, and when no zombies showed up, we headed back to Z-C. On the way back, I reloaded my M1911s and holstered them.

When we made it back to the Z-C courtyard, we were greeted by Richtofen and Takeo. Richtofen pulled me and Jon to the side.

"Come vith me," he ordered. Jon and I exchanged looks of confusion, but followed nonetheless. He led us into his repossessed office. Inside the office was Colton, who stood near a makeshift bed. On the bed was a pale man, a certain pale friend of ours.

When Jon caught sight of Luke on the bed, he became enraged. He turned to Richtofen and pushed him against the wall, literally lifting Richtofen up. Does Jon even lift? Yeah, he lifts, meaning that Richtofen couldn't escape Jon's grasp.

"What the FUCK did you do?!" Jon angrily yelled, emphasizing his F-bomb. Jon was probably Luke's best friend out of the group, so Jon's anger was not unjust.

Richtofen seemed pissed at Jon's accusation, but unimpressed at the same time. "I did nozhing to your friend, American."

"Bullshit!" Jon shouted. "You're a fucking sociopath!"

"Schizophrenic," Richtofen corrected.

"Whatever! You fucking piece of sh-"

"Jon," Colton interrupted, finally voicing his presence.

Jon wasn't pleased. "WHAT?"

"He didn't do anything," Colton said, calmly.

Jon's grip on Richtofen slacked. "What do you mean he didn't do anything?" His voice also turned down in volume a bit.

"American, let me down," the doctor requested. "Let me down und I vill explain." I could tell that he was on the verge of flipping out. Still, he kept himself composed.

"No! Why the fuck should I let you down?"

"Jon," I said, sick of the bullshit. "Let him down." Colton agreed. Slowly, Jon let the tall German down.

"You better fucking explain," Jon said, slowly calming down.

Richtofen brushed off his clothes and walked towards Luke. "Your friend vas cornered by die Untoten. He vas seriously injured, as you can tell." He nodded to Colton. "Vere it not for him, your pale friend vould likely be dead." He took a breath. "He is stable, but ve have one problem."

"Which is?" I asked.

"Is he infected? Is he going to fucking turn?" Jon asked.

"Vhat? Turn? One only becomes untoten upon death by ze minions. Ja, he has an infection, und zhat is ze problem," Richtofen said.

"And how's that a problem? You have antibiotics, I'm sure, right?" I asked.

"Ja, ve have antibiotics, but zhat vould take too long to fight off ze infection."

"Then what is your course of action?" I asked before Jon could lash out again.

The German gestured to the machine in the back of the office. "Ze Quick Revive."

"The fuck?" Jon, Colton, and I said in unison.

"But that only helps you revive allies faster," Colton mumbled.

Richtofen heard him and shot him a look. "Vhat do you mean?"

"I'll explain later," I told the doctor. I had not forgotten our talk the previous afternoon. "But why that horrid drink?"

"Have you ever drank Quick Revive?" Richtofen asked. "I doubt you have."

"No, but I know it tastes fishy."

"Ja, it does, und zhat's part of ze problem. But, Quick Revive is actually a chemically-engineered soft drink zhat bolsters ze consumer's immune system."

We knew it was a chemically-engineered soft drink, but it strengthened your immune system? My friends and I exchanged confused looks.

"And why is there a problem?" Colton asked.

Richtofen almost smacked himself. "Your friend needs to be avake in order to consume ze drink."

"Why not open his mouth and pour it in?" Jon asked.

"Idiot! Do you vant your friend to choke to death?" Jon's lowered his head in stupidity.

"How long has he been out?" I asked.

"A few hours," Colton replied.

I walked over to Luke, nudging him. "Luke, dude, wake up." Luke was covered in dried blood and makeshift bandages. He looked pretty bad.

"Ve tried to vake him up already," Richtofen ridiculed.

"How long ago?" Jon asked.

"Hour ago," Colton replied.

"Luke, seriously, wake up," I said firmly, shaking him. He didn't wake up. He was breathing, so he clearly wasn't dead.

"In order for him to heal completely by tonight, he needs to get up soon," Richtofen said. "Hopefully you can figure somezhing out. If you do, ze Quick Revive is over zhere." He left the office.

I sighed in frustration. Luke wouldn't get up.

"Hey Jesse," Jon said. I looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Move, I got an idea."

I moved out of the way and Jon made his way to the bedside. Jon brought up his arm, hand balled into a fist, and brought it down on Luke's crotch. Colton and I cringed.

The sudden shock of his precious gems being smashed woke Luke up and set him into a coughing fit, while instinctively grabbing the area afflicted by pain.

"Jon!" I said. "What the fuck?"

Jon shrugged. "It worked, right?"

"Looks like it hurts like a bitch," Colton dryly remarked.

"Jon!" Luke coughed. "What the heck?"

"You needed to get your ass up," Jon said.

"But... argh..." Luke groaned in pain.

"Jon, maybe you hit him too hard," I said. "Regardless, Luke, you need to drink something."

He groaned. "Like what?"

I walked over to the blue machine and got a bottle of blue liquid. I popped the cap off. "This," I said, handing him the bottle.

"What is it?"

"Quick Revive."

"Why do I have to drink it?"

Colton sighed at Luke and explained what Richtofen said. Luke sighed in reluctance, but after being coaxed, he finally drank the liquid. After the first sip, he almost spat it out.

He groaned in disgust. "It tastes like fish!"

"Just keep drinking it, shithead," Jon said. Luke reluctantly complied, forcing all of the liquid down his throat.

"Just like cough medicine," I said. "Don't ask for something else to drink."

"Why?" Luke asked, clearly disgusted.

"In case you didn't notice, Quick Revive's effects are completely different than in-game. Since it's medicinal, it may react adversely with other Perk-a-Colas," I said.

"Plus, Luke, the effects of the other colas are likely different," Colton added.

"Why don't we just ask the crazy Nazi?" Jon said.

"Good idea," I said. "Not like that was already a thought anyone had."

"Quit being a fucking smartass, Jesse," Jon said. "Just fucking ask him."

"Fine, I'll do that," I said as I walked out to find the doctor. As I closed the door, I jumped as I saw Richtofen to my side.

"Vhatever you need to know can vait," the Nazi said. "You remember our discussion yesterday, ja?"

"Yes, I remember," I told the doctor.

"Gut. Follow me."

He led me to the automobile garage, the place they defended the night before. After entering the garage, he walked up the stairs and made a right. He made another right, into a little office next to the Z-B teleporter. He motioned to a chair.

"Sitzen." I complied. "Now, first. Vhat vere you und your friends doing before you vere engulfed in electricity?"

* * *

**AN: I would just like to thank anyone who is reading (you know who you are) and also say that I prefer the chapters being shorter because it doesn't cramp my hands up, unlike American Displacement Disorder. Plus, it doesn't leave me burned out on ideas. So, keep reading my friends! I will try to update as much as possible.**


	6. Why Are We Here?

Chapter Six: Why Are We Here?

What were we doing? Again? I sighed.

"You want to know what we were doing?" I repeated. Richtofen nodded. "You probably will think I'm full of shit..."

"Just explain," the doctor ordered, taking out a notepad.

"Fine," I sighed. "My friends and I were playing a video game. A video game is kind of like a movie, except you control a character or, sometimes, you control characters. Imagine a board game, but in movie form..." I trailed off in thought. I still had my laptop and I had some games on there. "You know what, I'll show you later what I mean."

The doctor, who had listened intently and writing the whole time, looked at me quizzically. "Vhat do you mean?"

"That backpack has something in it that I could use to explain the video game thing better."

"Okay, zhen," he paused. "I have no reason to think you aren't from ze future, so tell me, vhat year vas it?"

"Two thousand eighteen," I said.

Richtofen momentarily paused, possibly surprised by the seventy-three year gap. Then he asked a very repetitive question. "Vhy are you vearing zhat?"

I sighed in frustration. "How fucking important is it?"

Richtofen chuckled. "I'm just curious."

"Goddamn it. I was going to go the firing range," I said.

"Dressed like zhat?" Richtofen tried to stifle another chuckle.

"Fucking hell," I murmured. "Yes, like this! I felt like being absolutely ridiculous!"

Richtofen stopped chuckling. "Next question, how do you know about ze Quick Revive?"

"About that..." I struggled to think of a way to explain. "Uh, like I said we were playing a video game..."

"Go on."

"Fuck," I couldn't explain. I vaguely remember having World at War on my laptop simply for custom zombie maps, though I hadn't played it for a while. I set down the StG44 and got up. "Stay right here."

"Vhat are you doing?"

"Getting that backpack," I called over my shoulder, already fast-walking towards the bridge past Double Tap. At that ledge, I hopped down, falling on my ass in the process. I briskly walked back to Richtofen's makeshift office.

So how'd it go?" Jon asked as I walked into the office.

"Still asking me questions," I quickly replied, walking to the wall safe.

"Then why're you here?"

"Just shut up Jon," I calmly replied. I inferred that the doctor wasn't one to keep waiting, so I was trying to be quick.

"God, what the fuck set you on your period?"

"Nothing, I'm just trying to be quick." I opened the safe and grabbed the backpack. "I'll be back."

Just like that, I swiftly exited the room. I made my way back to the room next to the Z-B teleporter, backpack lopsided on one shoulder. When I got back, Richtofen raised an eyebrow at me. Ignoring him, I rummaged through the backpack and grabbed my laptop. I sat back down and powered it up.

"Just wait," I said to the doctor. He clearly didn't like that, as he venomously scowled at me.

When the laptop was booted up, I searched for the Call of Duty: World at War shortcut icon. When I found it, I double-clicked it, setting the laptop on the desk. I turned it to Richtofen.

"Now watch," I said, going through the opening sequences. I could tell Richtofen was fascinated by the technology I possessed. When I reached the start menu, I clicked on "Nazi Zombies" and then "Solo." It brought up the map selection menu.

* * *

"Verrückt, Shi No Numa, Der Riese..." Edward read off of the screen of the machine. He was left to his own devices by the voices, not bothering him once in his interrogation.

He was fascinated by the machine, but what made him even more curious was the fact that their escapades were known in the future. There was another name, "Nacht der Untoten," but the doctor figured that was related to the Airfield Incident. Some Group 935 members had called it the night of the undead, but he couldn't draw a relevant conclusion.

_Shi No Numa,_ Richtofen thought. _Takeo called the Rising Sun facility that._

"Vhat is zhis, 'Shi No Numa?'" the doctor asked.

The metal-clad American had to ponder for a moment. "I think it was also called the Rising Sun facility."

"Mein Gott," the doctor mumbled.

The American did something on the machine, causing the screen to change. "Here, I selected Der Riese." The screen changed again, various noises being made, one of which sounded like Dempsey's voice, much to the doctor's dismay.

Shown were a pair of hands holding an M1911 with various labels located on parts of the screen. The hands appeared to be... in the mainframe courtyard? The younger man started typing something. Whatever he did allowed the hands to fly around, it seemed. Richtofen had to admit, it was kind of like a movie, but much more fascinating.

"Alright, here is the mainframe area," Jesse said, giving the doctor a view of the mainframe courtyard. It was a near exact replica. Jesse started showing off more and more areas, even the room they were in. Richtofen was stunned. Richtofen did notice some inconsistencies, but he ignored them.

"Just... how?" Richtofen said, words escaping him.

"I think that this is a dimension different than ours," Jesse said.

Alternate dimensions. Such a theory had been an interest of the doctor for quite some time.

"Please explain," Edward said, quickly recovering from speechlessness.

"Where my friends a I come from, you, Takeo, Tank, and Nikolai are all fictional characters. Characters in this video game and some others. All in all, you don't exist. Group 935 doesn't exist. Nothing and no one associated with them exists."

Richtofen took in what he was saying. "So, ve aren't real in your... dimension?"

"Yes."

"Vell zhen, vhat do you know about me, zhen?"

* * *

I remembered times that Colton had told me that no one gave a shit about the Zombies Characters. How glad was I that I knew, though Richtofen's question was fairly random.

"I know... some stuff, I guess," I said.

"Like vhat?" the doctor pushed further.

"Your schizophrenia from touching the M.P.D. for one." Bad idea.

Richtofen was taken aback. I was unsure if he was in disbelief or if he was starting to get mad. "Vhat else do you know?"

I tried to dodge the question. "Not much else, I-"

He leaped up and grabbed my throat, his Walther P38's barrel against my temple. "Kuhschieße! Vhat else do you know, American?" His tone of voice indicated he was serious and if I tried to lie, my brains would decorate the wall. I became extremely nervous, mainly because I had a gun to my head, but also because he was choking me.

"Stop... choking... me..." I managed to say, his grip on my throat disallowing me to breathe. His grip relaxed, but the P38 remained nestled on my temple.

"Now," the doctor said firmly. "Vhat else do you know?"

If I spilled all the beans, I didn't know what would happen. I didn't want to mention that I knew he wiped the other three's memories, because they'd figure it out on their own anyhow. So I quickly ravaged my brain for something else to say.

"I know you tried to kill Samantha and her dad by locking them in a room with Fluffy before they teleported away," I said really fast.

"Vhat else?" he said, his voice becoming more insane.

"Your fucking voices want you to take Samantha's fucking place!"

He persisted, asking me if I knew anything else, his P38 unmoving.

"For fuck's sake! I looked this shit up five years ago! I don't fucking remember!"

Surprisingly, he removed the P38 from my temple. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, American. You _und_ your friends. Now leave, I have stuff to do." He gave me a look that was pained, as if he just woke up from being conked in the head. I could tell he was still curious, regardless.

Grabbing everything I had when I entered, I quickly left, going the same way I had when I went to get the laptop. I had to be wary around the doctor at all costs. He was volatile, but unlike in the Call of Duty games, he could be reasoned with.

* * *

The doctor glanced at the retreating man. While he was still conscious, the voices took over again. He would likely have been just as persistent as the voices in trying to extract the information, but probably not to the point where he would draw a gun on the man. At the last second, Richtofen regained control and let the man go.

Jesse knew more than he told, but he could understand his unwillingness to give up the information. Someone who you believed was a fictional character suddenly asking how much you knew about them and putting a gun to your head wasn't likely to garner cooperation on your part. The doctor decided that the best course of action would be to slowly coerce the man to tell him what he knew.

The fact that he knew so much actually pleased the doctor. His tasks would likely be easier, but he wondered if the other man knew how to stop Samantha and destroy the M.P.D. Maybe even his friends would know.

Edward moved his thoughts to their current location. He, Dempsey, Takeo, and Nikolai had been in The Giant facility for nearly three weeks. The doctor was trying to find more of his research on the M.P.D., succeeding in finding the information he needed several days prior. His main concern then became making the teleporters functional.

He had a gut feeling that Samantha was behind inter-dimensionally teleporting the four men. His research supported that theory. The M.P.D. held massive amounts of power. So much so, it could transport people to other dimensions, evidenced by the newcomers.

Another gut feeling told him that the zombies would likely arrive earlier that night. Much more numerous, much more dangerous, and infinitely relentless. With eight people working against her, Samantha couldn't exactly keep toying with them. She might even deploy the Höllenhunde.

* * *

I strolled back into the office, not even caring to put the backpack back in the wall safe.

"How'd it go?" Jon asked again.

"Motherfucker pulled a gun on me," I said.

"The fuck for?"

I explained what had just happened to my three friends.

"We knew he was insane," Colton said.

"Yeah, but he wasn't merciful," I said. "He also had a pained expression on his face when he withdrew his P38."

"What the fuck does it matter?" Jon said. "He pulled a gun on you! Luke's fucked, we don't know what the colas do, we need sleep... Fuck, we're fucked!"

"Jon, I don't think we're entirely fucked," I said. "If you're tired, take a nap. We have time." My stomach growled. "Shit, I'm hungry now."

Jon threw his hand up. "There's another thing! Where's the fucking food?"

Colton was tired of Jon's complaining. "Shut up, Jon. God, you're annoying."

Jon turned to Colton. "Fuck off."

"That's another thing, you're saying 'fuck' more frequently than Jesse did in high school. Jesus."

Jon shook his head. "Whatever, I'll just get some damn sleep then." He walked out of the office, probably to find out where makeshift beds were.

"He's right though," Luke said. "We need to know what the other colas do."

I sighed. "I'm not going back to Richtofen right now."

"I'll go, then," Colton said. "Just come with me."

Reluctantly, I agreed to go with my friend.

* * *

Colton walked to the Z-B teleporter with Jesse in tow. He was there just in case Richtofen had any funny ideas. Upon approaching the room that Richtofen occupied, Colton paused, knocking the wall.

"Vhat?" the doctor said.

"I have a question," Colton said.

Richtofen turned his head to see Colton and Jesse in the doorway. He sighed. "Vhat is your question?"

"What do the colas do?"

"Vhat do you mean?" the doctor said, his back once again turned to them.

"Quick Revive bolsters the drinker's immune system, right?" Richtofen's head moved up and down. "Well, what about Juggernog, Double Tap Root Beer, and Speed Cola?"

Richtofen turned around to face the both of them. "Juggernog increases one's strength. Zheir skin becomes stronger and harder to puncture. Ze muscles are strengthened, as vell. Speed Cola improves one's coordination and motor skills. Double Tap is complicated."

"How so?" Colton asked the German.

Richtofen rubbed his forehead. "It actually vas meant to be just root beer, but test drinkers vere noted to have increased situational avareness and tactical thinking."

"Thanks," Colton said, and he and Jesse left before the doctor could say anything more.

The two each grabbed two bottles of each liquid, carrying them back to the office. Colton was surprised at how different Richtofen acted than he would in-game. His in-games sadistic quips made Colton chuckle, but the real Richtofen seemed less insane and sadistic. In the office, the two were pleasantly surprised to see Jon return.

"Hey, Jon," Jesse said in greeting. "Back so soon?"

"Yeah," Jon sighed before noticing the bottles. "Are those perks?"

"No, you idiot," Colton spat. "They're perks in-game, but realistically, they're beverages that are chemically-engineered."

"What's the difference?" Jon asked, surprisingly not being profane.

Jesse went on to explain what the different liquids did. Juggernog was the only one that seemed to match its in-game counterpart.

Colton and Jesse both set their bottles on the desk, one for each member of the group. The group of four each drank their sodas, not downing them in one go, however. Colton felt it was slightly relaxing. No zombies, just four friends drinking some cola.

* * *

I was the first done with the sodas. We spent a good half hour drinking the sodas, but I had a habit of constantly taking swigs of pop when I started drinking some. I went through cases of soda in short periods of time, usually leaving me with Kool-Aid until I bought more.

Juggernog was the best tasting one. It was like cherry soda, much to my pleasure. Cherry soda is amazing. Speed Cola tasted like a generic Mountain Dew. Not bad, but not good. It wasn't something I really looked forward to drinking. Double Tap Root Beer had to have been the strangest one of the three. I love root beer, and Double Tap didn't taste bad, but the liquid was... chewy. I can't explain.

I stood, belching loudly. I stepped outside of the office. Jon finished not long after me and he stood outside as well. My laptop was back in the backpack, but I reached down into the backpack to grab three things: my iPod, its charger, and earphones. I shoved them into the cargo pockets on my pants, so they couldn't fall out. I put the pack on my back and grabbed my StG44. Jon raised an eyebrow.

"Why the hell are you taking that?" he asked.

"What?" I asked in return.

"The backpack and the iPod."

"Maybe I just want to listen to some music."

"Doesn't explain the backpack."

"Don't feel like putting it back in that safe." Plus, I had more .45 ACP rounds inside.

He shook his head. "You are the strangest kind of lazy."

"I know." I wondered why he was on his feet. "Where you going?"

"I dunno, you?"

I considered helping Tank make barricades, remembering my idea of stacking the undead bodies. I had nothing better to do. "Might go help Tank build barricades. You wanna help?"

Jon shrugged. "Why the fuck not?"

We walked towards the Z-C teleporter, spotting Tank on the stairs. "Hey Tank!" I called.

He turned towards us. "What?"

"You gonna build some barricades?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Need some help?"

He eyed us, then grinned. "Sure, why not?"

We followed Tank to his first barricade, and by 'barricade,' I mean 'window/entryway to board up.' I reminded him of my idea.

"Okay, so, what? Pile the bodies up on the way the maggot-whores would enter, then board it up out here?" he asked.

I nodded. "Pretty much. We leave a couple body-free so that we can get out."

Tank seemed to understand, nodding his head. "Alright, let's get to work."

Jon, Tank, and I heaved bodies to the windows, throwing them inside. We then would pile up the bodies in front of the window, exit, and board up said window. If a window didn't have an exit point back into the facility, we just boarded it up. We worked for a good five hours doing this, and it seemed pretty good. Carrying and piling the bodies was disgusting, but the added obstacle would keep the zombies at bay a bit longer.

Once we were done barricading the facility, we headed back to the Z-C teleporter room. Takeo was on watch, so that allowed us to relax a bit. We all opted to get some shut-eye, so I asked Tank where we could sleep.

"Right over there," he said, pointing to some makeshift beds in a corner. We hadn't noticed those before.

Jon and I each took a bed. Jon was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. I, however, was still conscious for several minutes. I wondered how long we were going to be there, and more importantly, how we'd get out.

To help me sleep, I put the earphones in, my iPod playing as I slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The doctor was hard at work, working on more calculations for the teleporters. He was writing furiously into his notepad. Eight hours earlier, he was interrupted by one of the other Americans, the one that was in his group the previous night. The one that didn't get injured. The doctor calmly answered the man's questions about the Perk-a-Colas. He saw Jesse behind him, but he didn't do anything. _Interesting,_ the doctor had thought.

The doctor just finished an important equation when he heard a guttural scream. Followed by another, and then a wail, and soon the air was polluted with such sounds.

Pocketing his notepad that was jumbled full of information, the doctor got up and walked to a small walkway on the opposite side of the Z-B teleporter. On the walkway was a box with two white question marks painted on the lid. He reached down and undid the lock, opening the mysterious box. Lowering his hands down inside, he felt some bundled objects and picked them up, strapping them onto his belt. He reached back into the box and picked up another, rifle-sized object. Lifting it up, the doctor flicked a switch on the side of the strange machine.

The undead had arrived and in Richtofen's hands was his most coveted invention: the Wunderwaffe DG-2.

**AN: I will likely be unable to post the next chapter this weekend, so sorry to leave the story at a slight cliffhanger. The next chapter will definitely be posted Monday. Getting intense though, huh? What will happen next? Don't guess, it's kind of obvious. **


	7. Electrifying Exit

Chapter Seven: Electrifying Exit

The screams and groans could be heard throughout the facility. A rather disturbing sound, Luke thought. He was tore up from the zombies following a mental breakdown, and while he was still unstable, he got to his feet.

"Luke, sit back down," Colton commanded.

"Colton," Luke said. "I'll be fine." In reality, Luke wasn't fine. He was worried that he'd lose it again, letting his friends down and possibly getting killed in the process. He had a choice: die sitting down or try to fight. Luke settled on the latter.

Colton groaned in annoyance. "Fine. Your guns are right there." The chubby man pointed towards a corner of the office, where Richtofen had put Luke's equipment.

Pulling his torn-up shirt on, Luke nodded, limping to the firearms. He was physically and mentally the weakest, a fact he knew all too well. Wincing with pain, he slung the M1 Garand on his back, the leather strap feeling slightly uncomfortable against his bandages. Colton helped him strap a pistol holster on, which he filled with a Walther P38. Weapons slung, the pale man picked up the last firearm, a Thompson M1A1 sub-machine gun.

Together, the two friends exited the office, prepared to fight the undead hordes.

* * *

"Wha.." I groaned. "What?" My eyes didn't open.

"You must wake up!" a Japanese accented voice said.

"I don't wanna," I complained. The owner of the voice interrupted a really nice dream of mine. They kept shaking me and I was getting unsettled.

"Fine," the voice said. I had succeeded. Why was this guy in my room anyway?

_SMACK!_

Pain in my stomach made me jolt up. Whoever it was, the sonofabitch was going to get an asskicking. Opening my eyes, I looked for the attacker, but my eyes saw a completely foreign location. Like Der Riese from Call of Duty...

"Fuck," I said under my breath, memories of the previous day rushing back to me. I went to sleep once and completely forgot the situation. I smacked my head, almost forgetting the 'attacker.'

"What's wrong Takeo?" I asked the Japanese officer.

"The dishonorable corpses have arrived," he replied. I glanced around once more. Jon was already up, stocking up on ammo. Takeo looked at me expectantly.

"What? I'm up," I said. "Just go, I'll be out in a minute." The officer didn't like to be talked to in such a way, it seemed. He scowled, but went on his merry way to the Z-C courtyard.

I yawned and stretched, sitting in the bed for another minute. Berating myself for my sluggishness, I stood up, slinging the backpack on my shoulders. I stumbled around looking for my weapons when a gunshot rang out rather close to me.

"What the fuck?" I jumped, looking around. In front of my (then-pointed down) face, a zombie had strolled up to swipe at me. I looked behind me, seeing Jon smirk.

"What would you do without me?" he said, the smirk not faltering.

"Probably get eaten and be shit out," I dryly remarked. That was the second time Jon helped me out from a zombie that was about to shit on my parade.

"Well, someone isn't in a good mood," he said.

"Shut up." I normally wouldn't mind his comments, but if the zombies were there, then I needed to have some sense of security. I found the guns shortly after, right in front of my face. Sighing in frustration, I strapped on my pistol holsters and holstered the M1911s. Shouldering the StG44, I motioned to Jon.

"What?" he asked.

"Let's go, you moron," I replied. Jesus, he was being dumb. We headed out into the courtyard, only to be met by Colton and Luke.

"Luke!" Jon exclaimed. "Why the fuck are you up?"

"So I'm of some use," he said. I was surprised by Luke's new-found attitude.

"Get your ass back in there and rest!" Jon said.

"No," Luke feebly, but sternly, said. "I'm going to fight and you're gonna like it."

"Jon, just let him," I said to the now-fuming Jon.

"Fine, but if we fucking split up..." he trailed off with an agitated grunt. "No fucking splitting up this time."

We agreed and set off to find the original crew. We didn't get to search, however. We got jumped by zombies underneath the bridge that connected the garage and the animal labs.

Luke was shooting at some zombies, obviously in discomfort. His Thompson ran dry and he had difficulty reloading, which would have turned out badly had I not noticed his issue. Luke was getting surrounded, so I abandoned my post and unleashed hell on the zombies, blood and bits of flesh flying all around.

"Luke, you alright?" I asked, helping him to his feet after he tripped.

He got to his feet, stumbling a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine." I bit back any sort of response that implied otherwise.

Colton was calmly eliminating the zombies, his demeanor becoming very serious since Luke got injured. I was surprised to see him so worked up about Luke's well-being. He seemed to hold contempt for Luke for the longest time, making me all the more curious.

I was facing the Z-C teleporter originally, something Jon was also doing, and my abandonment of Jon wasn't of any help to him. Zombies were climbing over the chain-link fence, something we hadn't prepared for, making a mad dash to us. Turning around, I was welcomed by a crowd of forty zombies, all lumbering for Jon and I.

I ran dry in my Sturmgewehr and the crowd was fast approaching. Jon had to whip out his Trench Gun, firing into the crowd and pumping. I unholstered both M1911s and started firing into the crowd, hoping for a short reprieve to reload.

The Double Tap Root Beer really seemed to work. Jon and I managed to clear out the crowd with only fourteen .45 ACP rounds and four twelve gauge buckshot shells. Jon and I reloaded, our fight far from over. The zombies kept pouring in, and I just cocked the StG when the next group broke through. It was a smaller group, fortunately.

Colton and Luke were faring well, Luke actually killing many zombies. Bodies were surrounding my injured friend. Even more surprising was Luke's use of an M1 Garand to snuff out so many undead. He used a Thompson at first, but the M1 Garand seemed to be working wonders for him.

We had slaughtered so many zombies before our first reprieve that we were covered in blood, flesh, and various gore from head to toe. We didn't exactly have a reprieve, though. It was more of a moment to reload our guns and regroup, not something that let us take a breather.

"Shit," I said. "They're fucking relentless." I was breathing hard.

"You got that right," Jon said. "Just don't fucking leave me hanging again."

"Luke needed help, sorry."

"Uh, guys," Luke said. "Zombies?" Looking up, I saw that the zombies had already returned.

"Fuck! Fall back to the teleporter!" I said.

"Why?" Colton asked.

"Because it's more defensible! Jesus!" Jon said, clearly understanding my unspoken reasoning.

We retreated to the Z-C teleporter room, zombies only able to enter through two ways: the door or the catwalk.

Shouldering my StG44, I squeezed off bursts into the crowd that had started to charge from the courtyard. I scored a couple headshots, but the rest kept coming. I kept bursting, Jon joining in with his Thompson, but the crowd wouldn't go down. Regardless, Jon and I alternated fire, so the zombies would be continuously mowed down.

I kept hearing loud _PING!_ that signified Luke having to reload. Almost like it was rehearsed for a large part of his life, he slipped a fresh ammo clip into the M1 Garand every time. We kept killing, the bodies piling up at the doorway. Some zombies would enter from the catwalk, but their bodies tumbled down the stairs, Colton behind their deaths.

The hordes were relentless, causing me to grow afraid for our lives.

* * *

Doctor Edward Richtofen was stuck exterminating the undead with his super-soldier test subjects. It was a comforting experience, having a group that was totally competent when faced with the undead, but he also didn't want the other group to be eaten alive.

Zombies had surrounded the mainframe, the other three covering the entry points while the doctor provided support from behind. He would try to pick off as many zombies as possible with his MP40 and the ones that survived were then one of the other three's problems.

A short while later, the second wave of the unrelenting horde had passed, prompting the doctor to lead the other three back to the Z-C teleporter. If all was well, the eight men could hold up there and beat back the undead nuisance.

Richtofen was mildly surprised at the carnage he saw surrounding the Z-C courtyard. Bodies littered the ground, some in piles. Upon entering the teleporter room itself, he was even more surprised to see bodies strewn about the whole room.

_Didn't think they could do that,_ the doctor thought.

The other four men were positioned in front of the teleporter, guns at the ready. Richtofen and the other three were initially mistaken as zombies, hence the firearms being readied.

"Don't shoot," the doctor calmly said.

* * *

The doctor had told us not to shoot. We mistook the others as zombies at first, but then we relaxed.

"What brings you here?" Jon asked the doctor. Richtofen proceeded to explain his plan, where we would all camp out in that room, eviscerating the hordes.

I nodded, saying it sounded good. We each took up positions in the room, essentially making entry impossible on the zombies' part. We had a pretty solid defense in place, and when the horde came a third time, it showed.

By the fourth, however, our defense wasn't able to hold. Jon, Takeo, Richtofen, and I got pushed back to the teleporter, where the rest of the group was, covering our asses. I noticed that Richtofen had a Wunderwaffe on his back. _Likely for when shit hits the fan,_ I thought. We kept getting pushed back, the zombies unrelenting. I kept firing the StG, but it jammed.

"FUCKING SHIT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, lobbing the assault rifle at the crowd, downing a zombie. With no other option available, I drew an M1911, still attempting to repel some zombies. The M1911 was by no means weak, just impractical in that situation.

The horde had us surrounded. Richtofen shouldered the Wunderwaffe and fired into the crowd. Dozens of zombies had the powerful lightning encapsulate them, frying them. There was a horrid smell that followed, worse than the decomposing corpses themselves. It smelled like burnt shit.

Despite the Wunderwaffe shocking dozens of their comrades, the undead masses continued to assault us, causing Richtofen to once again fire the Wunderwaffe. As before, a multitude of zombies became charred piles of shit, but they kept coming.

As a last ditch attempt to get out of a corner, Richtofen attempted to activate the teleporter. It powered up, but then it stopped. Typing furiously on a keypad, he started to rapidly speak German.

"Was zum Teufel? Warum willst du nicht arbeiten? Ficken Stück Scheiße!" he said. "Mein Gott!"

An idea came to me. "Richtofen!" I barked. "Let me see the Wunderwaffe!" He turned to me with hatred burning in his eyes. Apparently, no one EVER gets the Wunderwaffe except him.

"Just let me see it!" I barked, not in the mood for his bullshit. Reluctantly, he handed me the Wonder Weapon.

I aimed the electric rifle upwards, towards the inner workings of the teleporter. It was rather cramped, but I didn't have to immediately worry about zombies. The four in the front ensured that.

"Now power it up again!" I shouted over gunfire.

He did so, and when the machine started whirring to life, I pulled the trigger, overcharging the teleporter. We quickly were engulfed in electricity, but everything was black from there.

**AN: Anyone who knows some of the zombies story knows exactly what just happened. Reviews are appreciated! Also, I'm sorry for updating a little late (I shouldn't work on two fanfictions at the same time). The next few chapters may or may not be uploaded for a couple of days. Black Ops II Vengeance and all. **


	8. Theatrical Entrance

Chapter Eight: Theatrical Entrance

Everything was black. Pure, dark, cold black. _Is this teleportation? Is it supposed to feel this shitty?_

* * *

A man with a mustache rose from the group of eight bodies that materialized. The man looked around, stroking his mustache. _Wait, when did I grow a mustache?_ the man thought.

Takeo Masaki walked around his unconscious allies, analyzing their new location. They appeared to be in the lobby of a German theater. Takeo remembered visiting one before the Empire declared war on the United States, United Kingdom, and France. It was when the Empire was invading the dishonorable nation that is China.

Takeo stopped remembering his past, something he still had. He was well aware of the German madman's attempts to wipe his memory, as well as Tank's and the dishonorable Nikolai's. It worked on Takeo, but only until the second week of their stay at the facility in Breslau. Then, Takeo remembered everything. He decided to play along, however. He thought that hiding such information would be dishonorable, unless the person it was being hid from was dishonorable themselves.

In the lobby were two sets of stairs, on opposite sides of the wall. Nazi German banners hung all around, one such banner draped over some debris. In between the two staircases was another path, that when Takeo followed it, led to a door that wouldn't open and another door that led to another room. Said room was in severe disrepair, like the theater itself.

There was another door in that room. Takeo followed it, walking into an alleyway. He looked to the sky, noting that it was early morning. Takeo walked back to the lobby, figuring it was better to wake his companions.

As he walked back into the lobby, the samurai heard a creak, one from when wooden structures were aged and placed under stress. Takeo instinctively reached for his Type 100 sub-machine gun, only to be met with nothingness.

_That girl knows not the extent of which her dishonor reaches! _the samurai thought angrily. The little girl that controlled the undead had too much fun toying with the men. Takeo reached for his katana instead.

The samurai turned around, raising his katana, only to see nothing. _Must be the wind,_ he thought, unhappy that he was fooled by mere wind. Sighing, Takeo continued back to the lobby, noticing that there was a mainframe in the middle of the lobby. A mainframe, like the one at Breslau.

Looking over the men, he noticed that none of them had any weapons other than sidearms. He chalked up the blame on Samantha as a part of her dishonorable games. He bent down and shook the pale man awake, the one he had to teach about firearms.

* * *

I was awakened rather rudely. I was in a deep sleep, at least until I was sharply kicked in the stomach.

"What the fuck do you want, cuntbag?" I angrily asked, pissed that I was woke up.

"Excuse me, Jesse," a male voice said with sarcasm. It was Jon. "Get your ass up, already." I opened my eyes to glare at Jon when a certain sight took my breath away. In a bad way.

We weren't at the mainframe, nor were we in Der Riese at all. We were in a theater, one that was extremely familiar to anyone who played _Black Ops_.

The Theater of the Dead. We were there. "Why are we in die Kino der Toten?" I asked Jon.

"Fuck if I know," he said. "What did you do before we teleported, anyway?"

I tried to remember what happened when we last were at The Giant. "I... Fuck," I said, scratching my head. "I raised the Wunderwaffe and fired it into the part of the teleporter that powered it."

I glanced around. Everyone was up. Tank and Nikolai were by the bar, Nikolai likely looking for vodka. Takeo was silent in the corner next to the extremely dark window. Colton and Luke were standing on the right-hand staircase, bullshitting quietly. Richtofen was analyzing the situation from the overhang that the staircases led to.

"C'mon," Jon said, holding his hand out. I grabbed it, feeling extremely light. Jon pulled me up and I looked down to brush myself off.

"Where the fuck is my shit?" I asked, realizing I didn't have the armor. I patted my back. "Fuck! Not even the backpack!" I felt my sides. I felt two familiar shapes. I sighed in relief, glad I at least had the M1911s. I then felt in my pocket, surprised to find my iPod and its accessories.

"Yeah," Jon said. "Forgot to mention... we don't have any guns except sidearms." To prove his point, he raised his M1911. "And in your case, you're now one of us, Mister Big Shit 'Cause I Had Armor."

I glared at Jon. "I wasn't acting like a hardass, asshole."

Jon chuckled. "I know, dude. I'm just pissing with you."

I didn't say anything, instead opting to analyze the situation. I knew what I did with the Wunderwaffe. At the time, I hadn't thought of it, but I did it regardless. I had advanced the Zombies story, overloading the teleporter and causing us to travel in time. To 1963.

I smacked my face, feeling stupid. _We would have died, had I not,_ I thought, trying to reassure myself that I wasn't an idiot.

"Jon, I'm gonna talk to the doctor. I'll be back," I said, walking up the stairs to Richtofen.

Jon opened his mouth to reject the idea, but he quickly shut it. I passed Colton and Luke. They went to say something, but I waved them off with my index finger raised. I continued to the possibly insane German doctor. Why was he 'possibly' insane? He didn't seem like he was a total madman at Der Riese.

"Entry 74021!" Richtofen exclaimed into a small tape recorder. I didn't recall such things existing in the 1940s, but he had invented a gun that shot pure fucking electricity. Also, zombies.

"Richtofen!" I said, interrupting his entry.

He stopped the recording, irritated. "Vhat do you vant, American?"

"You know what happened, right?" I asked, aware that he did know.

"You overloaded ze teleporter," Richtofen said, as if stating the obvious. "Apparently, ze M.D.T. is capable of time travel. Fascinating."

"You know where we are?" I knew he knew that too.

He sighed. "Zis is die Kino zhat ze Vundervaffen vere going to be unveiled to ze high-ranking Nazi officials. Der Führer himself vas to attend."

"Obviously that didn't happen." The doctor nodded, slightly sad that the event never happened. "When was the unveiling supposed to be?"

"April twentieth," he said. "Der Führer's birthday."

"And why didn't it happen?"

"Ze Allies vere advancing onto Berlin."

I kind of figured that, and I was surprised that Richtofen was talking to me so civilly, answering my questions.

"Why did you keep researching after the Reich fell? After the war itself ended?"

He glared at me. "None of your business, American. I have answered enough of your questions."

"Alright, fine," I said, walking away.

I walked back to Colton and Luke. They were covered in dried blood, like everyone except me. That was about to change, since I was armorless.

"What was that about?" Colton asked me.

I shook my head. "I'll tell you later." I looked at Luke. "How you holding up, Luke?"

"Well, I didn't fall apart yet, did I?" he replied, grinning slightly.

"You still feel like shit, huh?"

He nodded. "You know it."

I wondered what caused Luke's change of attitude once more. Maybe the zombies attacking him got the idea that we were basically fucked through his skull. Maybe he secretly was like this, though I severely doubted that. I shrugged off the thoughts, unsure of what to make of them.

I started walking back down the stairs. "I hope you two know the layout of this map well," I called. Colton and Luke both nodded.

I walked back to Jon, who was leaning on a wall outside of the MPL room. "How do you think we're gonna get through this?" he asked.

I shrugged. "The theater's cramped, I know that, but that's also good."

"How so?"

"Zombies just funnel through. The only problem is that there are numerous entry points."

Jon cocked an eyebrow. "Which one of these maps haven't you committed to memory?"

I smirked. "Mob of the Dead."

* * *

Edward Richtofen looked over the theater's lobby. He spotted the Quick Revive machine by the bar that Dempsey and Nikolai were still ravaging for vodka.

_How peculiar,_ the doctor thought. _I know we put the machines at the Rising Sun facility, but how did they end up at this theater?_ He stopped thinking. _Samantha,_ he concluded.

The little brat loved her mind games. Ever since she took control of the M.P.D. she fucked with them continuously. He took off his Brigade Leader's hat, running his hand through his hair. He wasn't old, but his hair was graying from the continued stresses that he endured whilst working with Group 935.

"Fick mich," the doctor murmured. The once armor-clad American had to fire the Wunderwaffe into the teleporter. He went against his better judgment in giving the man the electric rifle, but maybe it was a good thing. He discovered that the teleporters could be utilized for time travel if they were overloaded. Not to mention, the eight men would have likely been torn to shreds, allowing Samantha to win.

Richtofen knew the theater fairly well. He had been in it during one of Hitler's speeches, one of the ones unknown to the public. He couldn't quite remember what it was about, but it was important.

_Why did you keep researching after the Reich fell? After the war itself ended?_

That question came back to Edward. The answer wasn't easy to explain. The man asked too many questions, something the doctor did not appreciate. He understood that the man was curious, but there was a line that he had crossed in his asking. Maybe he would explain some other time.

_The voices aren't bothering me,_ Richtofen observed. _I wonder why._

His thoughts were interrupted by an extremely familiar sound: a bloodcurdling scream. Swearing, the doctor reached for his Walther P38, angered that he didn't have an MP40.

The minions were at this theater, and they had arrived rather early.

* * *

**AN: Lackluster eight chapter is lackluster. It can't be all zombie killing, but it can't be all drama. And yes, the group actually gets to Kino der Toten in-story by overloading the teleporter with the Wunderwaffe.**

**Any reviews would be pleasant. I also apologize for taking so long to get this short chapter up. Juggling this and American Displacement Disorder isn't easy.**


	9. Exploring the Theater

Chapter Nine: Exploring the Theater

The loud groan caught me and Jon off-guard. Both of us raised our M1911s, flicking the safeties off.

"They're here al-fucking-ready?" Jon asked, annoyance tinging his voice.

"Sounds like it," I replied. "Shitstorm's a brewin'."

"Fucking shit."

"Come on, let's-"

My sentence was interrupted as a group of zombies cut us off. Jon and I raised our Colts and fired off several shots, decimating the group. We walked past the bodies and I spat on them.

"Rotting pieces of shit," I remarked as the rest of the group came into view.

Takeo was slicing up a few zombies with his katana and Nikolai was bludgeoning one to death with a piece of wood. Dempsey bashed two zombies' heads together, causing them to crack open, gray matter hanging out. Richtofen was whistling as he spun his Walther around, occasionally stopping to crack a quick shot at a zombie's head. It was impressive to say the least.

Luke and Colton were side-by-side, shooting a few zombies. Jon and I ran over to join them, though all of the zombies had stopped flowing in, signaling the end of the wave.

"Pretty early for them to show up," Luke said, now caked in fresh gore.

"But they left just as quick," Jon said.

The rest of us nodded in agreement and Richtofen called us to attention. He stood on top of the balcony, pacing back and forth in an authoritative way.

"It seems zhat mein minions have come early," he said.

"Tell us something we don't know, Dicktofen," Dempsey called.

"Dempshey, I vill disembowel you vith a penknife."

"I'd like to see you fuckin' try."

"Anyvay! Ve need to get ze power on, ja? SO! Ve shall split up into two teams! Team ein! Me, Nikolai, ze fat guy, und ze roid-monkey!"

"Roid-monkey?" Jon repeated. "Who the fuck are you calling a roid monkey?"

"Team two! Vell, it's ze rest of you. Team ein, ve got zhat vay!" He pointed towards the PM63 room. "Team two, you go zhrough ze alleyvay! Gut? Ja, gut. NOW MOVE!"

Nikolai, Jon, and Colton all went with Richtofen as Luke and I grouped up with Dempsey and Takeo. Dempsey took point and walked through the MPL room first, confirming that it was safe we went through. Luke and I followed behind Takeo, who was quiet even when walking.

In the alleyway was the Double Tap machine, which wasn't anything new to me or Luke. Tank and Takeo, however, seemed to make mental notes of the Cola's location. We continued through the alleyway, Dempsey opening the chain-link fence to go further.

"Fucking Kraut, I'll kick his ass," I heard Dempsey grumble. Takeo just shook his head.

"You alright on ammo?" I asked Luke, noticing him look at his Walther quite frequently.

"Yeah, just making sure the safety's on."

Luke wasn't familiar with firearms, so his caution wasn't unfounded. It was actually pleasing to know he wasn't being reckless with guns, as opposed to his normally clumsy and careless attitude with things.

"I hope we can find some bigger fucking guns," Dempsey mused as we climbed the stairs past the fence. "I mean, I can take 'em out with my Colt, but a bigger gun makes shit easier."

"True," I agreed. "But I'm not sure where we'll find any guns here."

If I was right, the Theater of the Dead was in West Berlin, so NATO guns may have been stashed somewhere in the structure. That was merely speculation, since it was more likely that the eight of us would have to scavenge in Berlin itself.

We reached the top of the stairs and Dempsey noticed the blood streak that stretched from the top of the stairs into various parts of the room.

"Fuck me," he grumbled. "Some fucked shit went down in here."

The rest of us merely nodded in agreement and carried on. Nothing of interest was in the room, so I took point and opened the door to the staircase that lead to the theater itself. As I climbed down the stairs, the other three in tow, a box beneath the stairs caught my eye. Holstering my M1911, I hopped over the railing and pulled out the box, which had writing on the lid.

PROPERTY OF THE

UNITED STATES ARMY

"Huh," I sounded.

"You find something, kiddo?" Tank asked.

"Yeah, give me a sec."

My hands cupped the bottom of the box and I heaved it onto the floor at the base of the stairs. My fingers danced around with the latches and the lid popped off. Inside of the box were four M14 rifles with twenty-round magazines.

Tank, Takeo, and Luke all grabbed one. Luke and I were the only two who actually knew what the gun was, though the in-game Tank and Takeo were familiar with the rifle. Tank and Takeo were busy looking the guns over as I crawled back behind the stairs, looking for ammo boxes.

Though dark, a ray of light reflected off of the metal stairs, slightly illuminating a few hunter green ammunition boxes. According to the print on the side of one, they contained 7.62x51mm rounds. I grabbed a box.

"Luke, get over here," I said.

Luke walked over and I handed him the box, which he then placed on the ground next to the M14 box. We repeated the process three more times, procuring a total of four M14 ammunition boxes. Another glance beneath the stairs revealed a box full of magazines that I grabbed before crawling out from under the stairs.

I reached down and grabbed the remaining M14 and slung it over my shoulder. All of the rifles had slings on them for some reason, but I wasn't about to complain. After the M14 was safely resting on my shoulder, an ammo box entered my hand.

"Everyone grab a box," I said as I pushed the door to the stage open with my foot.

The other three grabbed a box, Luke being the only one who had to use two hands. The stage was empty, as was expected. The other group either found some guns or Nikolai stopped at the bar in the foyer. The latter seemed more likely.

"Set the boxes over there," Dempsey said, pointing towards the podium.

The four of us lugged the boxes to the podium and set them down. I opened the magazine box and pulled out thirty-two magazines, eight for each of our group.

"Luke, go turn on the power," I said, setting his eight on the steps of the podium and handing the other two theirs.

"YUS!" he exclaimed.

Luke was the guy who got a raging hard-on whenever he turned on the power in-game, but got extremely bitchy if he didn't. It was a quirk we had gotten used to, though it was still annoying, and the fact that he was so excited to do it in real-life shouldn't have been as shocking.

Takeo and Tank had already opened two ammo boxes and started to load their magazines with 7.62 NATO rounds. Soldiers were soldiers, and they knew what to do. The teleported powered up, Luke having flipped the power switch on. He came running back and my finger was extended towards his magazines.

"What do I do?" he asked as he sat on the stairs.

"Here," I said, grabbing one of my magazines and an ammo box. "You want to load the magazines with ammunition, buttmunch."

Opening the ammo box, I decided to demonstrate. I inserted the rounds into the magazine, making sure to show him EXACTLY how to do it, since Luke was something of a plebeian.

"So, like this?" he asked as he started inserting rounds into his magazine.

"Yeah, just like that."

He nodded and continued inserting rounds into the magazine. I kept filling my magazines, too, and by the time I finished the eighth one, I slid the magazine already in my M14 out.

"Shit," I said. "The mag's empty."

"Fuck," Dempsey said, sliding his M14's mag out. Takeo and Luke merely grunted as they followed suit.

Halfway through filling the ninth magazine, a German voice rang out.

"Vell, vell, vhat are zhese?" Richtofen asked as he walked to us, his footsteps echoing.

"M14 battle rifles," I replied. "You wouldn't know, obviously."

Richtofen frowned. "Vell, ve found vaffen as vell. MP40s, to be exact."

"Where?"

"Ze foyer. Zhere are some more boxes on ze stage, in fact. Behind zhese." He pointed to the wooden structures underneath the screen.

"Done," Takeo, Tank, and Luke said simultaneously as they finished their magazines.

"Scheiße," I said as I hurried to finish my last magazine. Richtofen cocked an eyebrow at my German swear, but said nothing as he walked away, twirling an MP40 in his hand.

"Fucking Kraut," Dempsey mused. "Fucking kick his ass, I swear."

Dempsey legitimately loathed the doctor, which wasn't a surprise. Inserting a magazine into the M14, I stood. Luke stood at the same time and he followed me as I walked off the stage. My destination was a certain machine that dispensed soda in the back, next to the stairs to the lobby.

Standing in front of the machine, I got two bottles out and handed one to Luke. The top popped off easily and the red liquid slid down my throat with a perfect amount of thickness to it. Luke took a drink as well, burping afterward.

Dempsey sprinted past us with near Flash-like speed, quickly obtaining a bottle of Juggernog. He popped the top off and tossed it as he raised the bottle up and chugged the soft drink. Once he finished the entire drink, he threw the bottle aside and let out a loud burp.

"Woo!" he exclaimed. "Fuckin' love Juggernog! How 'bout you guys?"

"Pretty damn good," I said, which was far from a lie. Juggernog was an excellent drink.

"What he said," Luke replied.

Dempsey nodded and jogged back to the stage after grabbing another bottle, the drunken Nikolai waving to him.

I sighed and leaned on the wall next to the soda machine. Luke did the same and slid his Walther out, inserting a fresh magazine before reholstering it.

"So, how do you think we'll do here?" he asked.

"Fine. We know the map well. The zombies basically flow through the opposite ends of the theater, so it should be easy to defend, not to mention the electric traps on the way to the dressing room and the lobby."

"You seem pretty confident," Luke remarked.

"If you want to say that." I slung the M14 across my torso, rather than just my shoulder. "Let's head back to the others."

Luke nodded and the two of us started to walk back to the stage, only for a loud screech to ring out.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, drawing an M1911. Luke raised his Walther almost instinctively.

Zombies climbed out of the ground and over the debris that littered the theater. Luke and I held our ground, firing at the zombies' skulls. I only got four shots off before having to reload. During that time, a zombie got too close, so I elbowed it in the face and shouldered it, causing it to fall over. My foot raised and came down onto its face with a sickening thud and subsequent squish.

"That's fucking nasty," I mused as I finished reloading, pulling the slide back to chamber a new round.

I raised my M1911 and unsheathed my knife, holding them in the Harries Technique. Zombies would come at me and I would jab the knife into their jugular vein, occasionally pistol whipping them in the face for the hell of it. Luke was just shooting at the zombies.

After about twenty zombies on my end, the horde relented, retreating to the depths of hell for a brief period of time. I had become covered in blood, thanks to the amount of blood that spewed out from the zombies' jugulars.

"Alright, man," I said to Luke. "Let's regroup."

Luke held up his finger and clutched his stomach as he leaned forward. He upchucked all over the floor, the vomit mixing with the spilled blood, mixing into a sickly reddish-green. The sight made me want to puke. I grabbed Luke's arm and slung it over my shoulders.

"Alright man, you'll be fine," I said, supporting him as we walked back to the stage.

_This is going to be one hell of a fight,_ I thought.

* * *

**AN: The long-awaited chapter for Glitch in the System has arrived! Hooray! Yippee! Whatever the fuck else you want to say!**

**The reason this chapter, however short, took so long is because of ADD. As such, GitS has been put on something of a hiatus, similar to Mirai Kenji. Both will be updated every so often, though not as much as ADD. Once ADD is done, which may take a long time, these two will be updated much more frequently. **

**So, I leave you with this chapter of GitS. I understand that longer chapters would be nice, but I digress.**


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